


Breath of Life

by anextraordinarymuse (December_Daughter)



Category: Green Rider Series - Kristen Britain
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-03
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2019-08-17 03:11:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 39,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16508249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/December_Daughter/pseuds/anextraordinarymuse
Summary: Lynx arrives at the castle, alone, with news of the disastrous expedition into Blackveil. Is Karigan really dead, as Lynx believes? How will the kingdom prepare for the return of Mornhavon? As events unfold, our characters are greeted with many events they may not be prepared to handle; events that will shake them - and, more importantly, the kingdom - to the very core.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am migrating this story over from Fanfic.net. I started writing this back in 2012 (holy crap!) - it is not abandoned, just delayed. Since I use AO3 more than FF.net these days, I thought it deserved a spot here. 
> 
> This is set after Blackveil, and disregards everything after (at least so far).

Behind the mask of cool indifference that he knew clouded his features, Zachary was having a hard time concentrating. His thoughts bounced from subject to subject, unwilling to remain trained on the droning voice of his new General of the Armies, General Hamer. The General was reporting on his takeover of the Armies, just as the King had instructed him to do when he'd appointed him two weeks ago. The replacement of his entire retinue of advisors had been quite the ordeal, one that he doubted he could have handled as smoothly as he did without the invaluable guidance of his friend, Laren Mapstone. The Queen, of course, had been an active member of the deliberations, and the three of them had spent many evenings discussing the merits of each individual candidate.

Estora had shown herself to be a capable and dedicated Queen; she was well suited to the post, he would not deny that. Zachary knew Laren well enough to know that his long time friend approved of the woman, and seeing them interact during those long nights had sealed his belief in their growing esteem of one another.

Despite her suitability for the position; despite Captain Mapstone's approval of her; despite all of the things that worked in her favor, Zachary could not say that he was happy. Though Estora was a sweet and caring woman, beautiful of features and character, his heart remained with another; one who added to all of Estora's charms a certain fire, an indomitable spunk and zest for life that left him in awe. Estora was his Queen, but Karigan was the wild creature that beat within his breast. She was always with him: the sound of her voice whispering in his ears when he thought no one was around, the rose of the blush that dusted her cheeks so vibrant in his memory when he closed his eyes.

The shuffle of Connly's feet to his right grabbed his attention just as General Hamer concluded his report, but Zachary didn't have time to ponder whether or not his Green Rider had purposely tried to get his attention or if it had been mere coincidence.

"The transition has gone as smoothly as possible, Sire," General Hamer told him confidently.

"Then you have no formal complaints to lodge?" Zachary queried.

"None, Sire."

"Excellent. I expect great things from you, General."

"I shall do my best not to disappoint, Your Majesty."

"I believe you."

Zachary dismissed the gathered crowd then, thankful for the end of the morning audience. Beside him, Estora shifted almost imperceptibly in her seat at the same moment Rider Connly's stomach let out a ferocious grumble. The other man tried to hide his chagrin, but Zachary just smiled and called out the order for food.

"Have you heard from Captain Mapstone, Rider Connly?" The King asked as he stood, offering Estora his arm.

"Not yet, Sire. I believe she was traveling to Corsa, and do not expect to hear from her for a few days more."

"Please tell me when you do."

"Of course, Sire."

Laren had left just as soon as their work with replacing the advisors was finished. She had requested some well deserved leave time, and he had to admit that he had been surprised to hear that she was headed for Corsa. He had wanted to ask who she was planning to visit in the coastal city but had managed to restrain himself, although he had a decent hunch that it was none other than Karigan's father.

Karigan … Karigan, who was facing only the Gods knew what in that damned forest. He could not stand to think of her there, so far from home, from her friends … from him; so far from any protection he could conceivably offer.

Why must she always be out of his reach?

They were just feet from the door, Estora on his arm and Connly keeping pace beside them, when the doors to the throne room were unceremoniously thrown open. In a flurry of movement, Zachary came up short at the same moment his Weapons materialized around his little group, encasing them in a circle of unyielding black. Zachary could hear the harried words of his herald, Neff, as he tried to argue with someone.

"I will see the King now," a rough voice ground out, "And the Captain. I do not need to be announced."

"Lynx?" Connly threw out, over the formidable circle of Weapons, "Is that you?"

"Yes."

Zachary's stomach seemed to drop all the way through the floor at the terse reply. He remembered Lynx: tall, animalistic in his brooding silence and rarely seen out of his beloved forest. More than that, he had been part of the expedition to Blackveil.

He had been with Karigan.

"Let him through," the King demanded, his voice frosty in his fear.

Like liquid shadows his Weapons disappeared just as quickly as they had come, leaving Zachary with an unobstructed view of Rider Lynx. The King took stock of his rider quickly: tense, old scratches marring his impassive face … and haunted, angry eyes that seemed to suck all the air out of the room. All at once he knew that he did not want to hear what Lynx had to tell him; he knew that his world – the whole world – was about to drop away from him. There were not many reasons for Lynx to be here alone, standing before him without Karigan; whatever the reason, Zachary felt in his bones that it was not a good one.

"You wish to speak with me, Rider Lynx?" He asked, trying to remain collected.

"Your Majesty, I have important news that must not wait."

The Rider seemed to glance quickly at Estora and then pause, as if in uncertainty. For a moment Zachary could not understand the man's hesitance, and then he remembered that he had not yet been married when the expedition left for Blackveil. He was probably waiting to see if the King would dismiss his betrothed, unaware that he stood before his new Queen, or perhaps he was suddenly caught with the realization that he had not bowed before the King; whatever reason lay behind his pause, Zachary did not care.

"Please continue, Rider."

Lynx shifted a hard gaze back to his monarch, unprepared for what was to come and determined that he would get the words out. He would give his report, as was his duty, and answer any questions, and then Lynx fully intended to lose himself in the forests once more. Solitude was what he wanted: an escape from the life of constant pain and sorrow the Green Riders seemed destined to follow. He did not want to watch anymore of his brothers and sisters to die.

Without so much as relaxing his stance, Lynx began the long narrative of their journey into Blackveil. He told of their encounters with the hummingbirds, their separation and eventual rescue of Karigan and Yates, their travel to Argenthyne. He spoke tonelessly, willing the emotion out of his voice and face, determined that he would not break down. He told of the Sleepers and their attack, of the Groundmites, and then his voice began to falter. The events of the last … how long had it been? Weeks? Months? All of it came back to him, the loss of the Eletian, Hana, the death of Grae and Solan … He did not want to remember.

"Lynx?" A soft voice prodded.

His eyes, which had wandered to the floor, snapped up and locked on to the somber and kind face of Lady Estora – Queen Estora now, by the looks of it. A long, breathless moment stretched out before him in which he saw once again the deaths of his companions, people he had come to respect and admire; all except for one: Ard. The man who had tried to assassinate Karigan. Telagioth had told them of his actions, how he had admitted to doing his bidding with the lady's blessing, and a black pit of rage opened within him. Here was his Queen, the woman his King had chosen to help him run and care for their country, and she had blessed the assassination attempt of a hero.

In an unadulterated moment of pain and rage and grief, Lynx let it all out with a lash of his tongue.

"You," He started savagely, unaware that he had begun to tremble, "You … you … she saved us! Again and again she sacrificed her life, everything she was, to keep King and country safe!"

"Lynx …" Connly began, fearing the blackness in the Rider's eyes, but the other man was lost to him.

"Karigan fought … she fought so hard, even when she was on the brink of death, she kept going … and you tried to have her assassinated!" Lynx did not move toward the stricken woman, did not care about his transgression – his voice was rising in pitch, his blood boiling in his veins with unchecked rage, and still he kept going. "You failed, my Queen," and he spit the word out of his mouth as if it were poison, "but you need not worry – Karigan will never come back, because she's dead!"

"Lynx!" Connly yelled, and the taller man jerked as if slapped.

Zachary was certain he was not breathing; he knew that any moment now he would blink and find himself collapsed on the throne room floor, propriety be damned. Then again, perhaps there would not even be a floor; after all, he did not believe in gravity. He did not believe in direction or space or time: how could any of those things exist, when Karigan did not? How could anything exist if Karigan G'ladheon did not?

"Mornhavon returned," Lynx was saying hoarsely, the animosity once again bottled, "He possessed Yates. The last I saw of Karigan, she was shattering a mask at their feet. The next thing I knew, I was lying on the Wanda Plains, Yates dying beside me. Ealdean and Telagioth I found easily; we waited. For days we waited, but no one else came."

_No one else came_. The words seemed to bounce around in Estora's head, growing in volume until she felt certain someone was screaming in her ear. Ard had indeed tried to kill Karigan – her friend. He had tried and been thwarted, only to be succeeded by Mornhavon.

"You are certain Karigan is dead?" Connly hated the way the word slid off his tongue.

"No; nor am I certain she's alive. As I said, the last time I saw her she was fighting Mornhavon. She had a broken wrist, a severely injured leg and was fighting the effects of some kind of poison. If she did survive Mornhavon's attack, and yet was transported somewhere other than the Wanda Plains – like the rest of us – then think of her situation. Poisoned, injured, possibly bleeding … and alone. What hope does she have?"

Zachary was still standing, the weight of Estora's arm that was linked in his a physical reminder that he was still a functioning human being; he could still feel, still think … could Karigan?

Somewhere in the corner of his mind, a little voice reminded him of Lynx's accusation of Estora, at the unacceptable way he had addressed his monarch and demanded that the action should not go unnoticed and unpunished. That voice was drowned out, however, by a more sinister one that repeated Lynx's words in an unbroken litany:  _what hope does she have?_

Estora was speaking and for all that she stood next to him, he did not hear her words. Instead, his eyes drifted to the shadows around the throne room; the tiniest hint of movement caught his eye, and he watched silently as his Weapons materialized out of the blackness. He found Fastion, whose usual stony expression was marred only by the thin, tight line of his lips. Had he heard? Did he know that Karigan was likely lost to them forever?

"…My cousin, Lord Spane," Estora's words floated to him. "He is being held until proper punishment can be agree upon. I assure you, Rider Lynx, I wish Karigan no harm, and hope with all of my heart that your prediction of her end is false."

"I apologize for my outburst, Your Highness," Lynx replied, but his voice sounded automatic and hollow in Zachary's ears. "I do not know what came over me."

"Your Majesties, with your permission I'd like to dismiss Rider Lynx." This time Connly was addressing them, although he was looking at Zachary. "He has had a rough journey and would appreciate a rest, I'm sure."

"Of course, Connly," Zachary replied without much thought. Then, "Please stay for a few days, Rider Lynx, in case I have any more questions."

"Yes, Sire."

Zachary observed the man's bow and subsequent retreat, his mind suspiciously blank. The strain of the last few weeks seemed entirely forgotten, what mild weakness still remained from his illness unimportant; a lot of things seemed unimportant at the moment.

"She's made it out of rough situations before," Estora said quietly, more to herself than to her companions.

"The Captain swears she's made of more spunk than anyone she's ever met," Connly agreed just as softly.

The Weapons had come forward again and formed a loose circle around them. Zachary glanced at some of their faces: Fastion and Willis and Donal … all of them sported the same tense lines about their mouths and eyes, as if for once almost unable to keep their masks in place. These people counted Karigan as friend, he knew, even respected and trusted her in a way that he wasn't sure anyone but they understood.

"She is not dead."

He didn't realize the words had actually left his mouth until Connly glanced questioningly at him.

"Sire?"

"I will not believe Karigan G'ladheon is dead without proof."

"She is alone, Zachary …" Estora started.

For the first time in their marriage – in their acquaintance – Zachary lost his temper with her.

"She is alive until proven otherwise!"

Estora did not seem shocked at the heat behind his words; she merely nodded as if she had expected nothing else.

Inwardly, Zachary wanted nothing more than to fly into a mindless rage and throw things around his study – and maybe cry; outwardly, his cheek twitched as he clamped his jaws shut against the urge.

He had sent the woman he loved into the most dangerous place in all of Sacordia; he had quite possibly sent her to her death.

Why hadn't he begged her to stay?


	2. Chapter 2

Karigan drifted, unaware of whether or not she slept; she thought perhaps her eyes were closed, yet she could see everything.

She saw the mirror mask again, saw the colored threads of individual lives spread out against the vast expanse of the universe; she saw the stars twinkle at her as she gazed into the depths of the mask, saw the perfect ebony of the night sky reflected back at her. She wondered what it would be like to wear that mask: what sort of terrible power did the wearer wield? What would such power cost a person?

The scene shifted and she watched herself from a distance as she raised the mask and threw it with all the force she could muster at her feet. She heard Mornhavon's angry scream and watched in slow motion as a glittering shard leapt from its brethren on the floor to imbed itself in her leg.

Karigan vaguely remembered cutting her hand on that same piece of mask, but could not feel either wound. She had been cold, she knew, and frightened and in pain, but it was more like a dark memory now. She felt none of those things.

The colors swirled and blurred, then rearranged themselves into another picture. She saw Lynx on a vast plain, leaning down to catch the last words Yates spoke before the life left his body. She saw his lips move, but heard no sound – what had he said? The death of her friend should have devastated her; she should have been torn with guilt, and although she knew it was lurking, it felt as though she were acknowledging it from a great distance.

Again and again the scenes changed. Although she recognized some of the events – the incident with the mask, for example, had happened in the past – there were many more scenes that she did not. Was she seeing the future? Were these things happening, or what would happen? More importantly, why was she seeing them?

"Kari?"

The voice was soft and unfamiliar, yet she felt a strange stirring in her breast at the sound. She had no reason to respond, and yet the thump of her heart quickened immediately when she heard her name.

She saw herself in a room with stone walls – the castle? – seated at a large desk. Next to the projection of her, little legs swinging over the edge, a small blonde boy with almond shaped eyes watched her intently.

"Hmm?" She hummed in response.

"Can I call you mother?"

Karigan – the version of herself seated at the desk, the dream version – stopped writing and laid her pencil down slowly to fix the boy with a serious expression.

Before she could hear the answer the colors changed again, but she barely had time to register an objection before she was greeted with a new sight of not one, but two small boys. One she recognized as the blonde boy from the previous dream; the other looked younger and only slightly different, his hair a rich brown and his eyes – although almond shaped – a pale blue.

"So this is where you boys ran off to." She watched herself walk down a hallway to where the two boys sat playing with wooden swords. "Where did you get those?"

"Father," The younger boy replied, grinning at his brother.

"He said we could learn how to fight with real swords when we were older!" The blonde boy gushed.

"And so you can, but for now how about some dinner?"

The two boys grinned excitedly and reached simultaneously for one of her hands. She smiled lovingly at them and turned to lead them back the way she had come.

"Come along, Moonlings. Your father is waiting."

An unexpected light exploded outward, blinding her with its sudden intrusion; color and sound evaporated. Karigan could no longer see, but she knew that she was falling. The bubble that seemed to have enveloped her dissipated; all at once she was aware of her injuries again, aware of the cold stone under and around her, aware of the grief and pain that threatened to drown her.

Trapped, frightened and overwhelmed, Karigan began screaming.

 

* * *

 

Zachary wandered. The castle was quiet, most of its occupants safely repining in their beds; the clock bells had pealed out second hour only some moments before. The King carried no torch to light his way, preferring instead to allow himself to be swallowed into the darkness of the night. He felt more than heard Fastion's presence behind him and was thankful that only one Weapon accompanied him on his nightly meanderings.

Three days. Three days had passed since Lynx had arrived and given him the terrible news; three days in which he did not remember much of anything except the ache in his chest that refused to abate. He did not remember sleeping more than two hours in a single stretch since Lynx's report.

Three days in which he had despaired of ever seeing Karigan again.

Zachary squeezed the book he clasped in one hand, unsure if he wanted to open it again and unable to resist. Lynx had delivered Yates' journal to him the day after his arrival, and the King had poured over it exhaustively. He had gazed with horror at the drawings of deadly hummingbirds, the horror changing to sorrow as he took in the face of Hana, the Eletian healer that had been the first of their losses. He had already read the journal front to back more times than he could count, and yet he always found himself drawn to one of the last pages: Yates had drawn a perfect image of Karigan, eyes closed in slumber and the barest hint of a smile pulling at her lips. Every time Zachary gazed at the image, rendered in such careful and exact detail, he sent up another heartfelt thank you to Yates' spirit.

He started walking again. There was no path for his feet to follow, no thought to where he was going; he had taken up the aimless journey on that first night when sleep proved elusive. Each night he would slip from his apartments, Fastion an almost non-existent shadow behind him, and glide on silent feet through the sleeping castle. During the day he would be King; during the day he would pretend to be whole and place the needs of his kingdom over his own, just as he always had. Only under the cover of darkness could he allow his mask to fall away and be nothing more than a man desperate to believe that his love would return to him.

Zachary was torn from his thoughts by the sudden appearance of a cat, his white fur almost glowing as he sauntered down the deserted hallway. Curious – Zachary had never seen a cat in the castle before – he followed the animal at a discreet distance. The feline seemed to know exactly where he was going, navigating the corners without so much as a pause.

The ghostly feline slipped through a door on his left and Zachary followed automatically, forgetting in his single minded pursuit that he was quite possibly barging into someone's personal quarters.

The cat blinked wide eyes at him from the place it had taken up on the empty bed across the room. Zachary pulled up short just inside the doorway, his stomach flopping wildly. He knew that smell: horses and pine and the faintest undercurrent of something floral. The room smelled almost exactly like Karigan.

He took in the large old wardrobe standing against one wall, unassuming despite its superior craftsmanship; a small writing desk took up space on the opposite wall, a few loose papers hastily thrown into a pile and stacked on one corner. The space still felt lived in despite the absence of its occupant, and the King felt himself drawn in. He had never been in Karigan's room, although he'd often tried to come up with a reasonable excuse to seek her out there. He had always wanted to know what sort of treasures his Rider kept closest to her.

He glanced at her bed but moved instead toward the desk, pulling the chair out as quietly as he could and then lowering himself into it. He could almost hear Karigan chastising him for invading his privacy and would have smiled, if the thought had not brought to mind a more serious one.

Estora had been discussing that day's public audience with him earlier, and he supposed he must have stopped paying attention at some point because one moment she was talking about how best to handle the news of Mornhavon's return and the next she was shocking him back into awareness.

"You called her name." Estora's voice had been soft, calm even, but he thought he had detected a tinge of hurt behind the words.

"My Lady?" He'd questioned.

Estora had fixed him with a steady gaze and seemed to collect herself before continuing. "During out consummation. You called her name."

Zachary had felt the color drain from his face immediately. Although she was not reprimanding him and her expression held no trace of anger, he had been mortified. There was no need to ask whom she meant: of the very few things that he could remember from that act, the vision of Karigan above him was the clearest. He had treasured that image even after he woke, but never had he imagined that he had done such a thing. Whatever Estora's feelings for him may be, he knew that she must have felt at least some hurt; it was possible that she still did.

He had flushed in embarrassment and started to apologize, but Estora had given a small shake of her head and stopped him.

"I do not deny that I was … surprised, and even a little hurt. I do not expect you to love me, Zachary; ours is a marriage of political convenience, and I understand that. I do hope, however, that there can be some affection found between us, in time."

"I would understand if you were very angry with me, Estora." It was the first time he'd ever called her by her given name, no titles attached, and she had seemed surprised to hear it.

"There is nothing to be angry about. Now, if you'll excuse me." She had swept gracefully to her feet and padded to the door, only to stop a few feet from it. "Zachary?"

"Estora?"

"No matter what people may think, I do hope Karigan returns."

The Queen had left him then.

Alone in Karigan's room, Zachary allowed himself to heave a quiet sigh. One of his first thoughts upon waking from his injury and discovering the events that had transpired was how Karigan would react when she heard the news. Would she feel betrayed?

Then, when Estora had told him of his slip up, he'd wanted to scream. No matter which way he turned, someone was going to be hurt and angry. He would not deny that his first thoughts were always of Karigan and that she had his whole heart, but Estora was a good woman who did not deserve to always be second best. He did not want to betray or injure either woman, and yet it seemed inevitable.

The cat yawned and tilted its head, watching him in what could almost be called consternation.

"I don't suppose you have any answers for me?" Zachary whispered.

As if in answer the animal leapt off the bed and crossed the room in a few quick strides, catching the King by surprise. He expected the cat to disappear out the door behind him, but instead felt his surprise double when the animal strolled over to the desk and stretched out a paw to swat at the knob on the desk drawer.

"You are the strangest cat I have ever met," Zachary muttered. "I could almost swear you understand me."

One white ear flicked back as if listening; the cat sized him up, swatted at the knob one more time and then sauntered off into the shadows.

Zachary gazed at the offending drawer for the span of a few breaths, unsure of what to do. The idea that a cat had not only understood him but found a way to answer his question seemed ridiculous; and yet, ignoring what he could only interpret as a hint seemed … impossible.

Knowing that Karigan would surely beat him senseless if she ever found it, he slid the drawer open with bated breath.

A small stack of crisply folded papers stared up at him. He could make out Karigan's familiar handwriting on the top one, but without a light to read by he could not read it.

"Fastion."

His Weapon materialized at his side without a sound.

"I need a candle."

Fastion disappeared; Zachary pulled the stack of papers almost reverently from their resting spot in the drawer and placed them on the top of Karigan's desk, just a few inches away from where he had placed Yates' journal.

Somewhere near his left elbow a small cloud of yellow light coalesced into being; Fastion slid the candle carefully on the edge of the desk.

"Karigan would not approve, Sire," His Weapon said softly.

"If she returns, Fastion, I will gladly withstand the heat of her anger."

The first paper – letter – was addressed to her father; he tried to ignore the sense of disappointment that swelled in his breast. The second was addressed to Captain Mapstone; the third was addressed simply to her fellow riders.

Zachary held his breath: what would he do if he did not find a letter addressed to him? What would he do if he did?

There, on the very last letter of the pile, he found his name. The disappointment he felt quickly gave way to trepidation and a heady sense of excitement. Without a second thought, he broke the wax imprint and raked his eyes over the only letter Karigan had ever written him.

_Zachary,_

_I have learned many things about myself these last few years, the most important of which is that I am no hero. I am, in fact, a coward. Everything I do seems to be motivated by fear: the fear of Mornhavon's return, the fear of losing another friend, but mostly the fear of what would happen to those I love if I fail._

_Do you remember that night on the roof – the night you told me you loved me? It was fear that made me run, that always makes me run - especially from you. I feared – I still fear – what would happen if I ever found the courage to tell you that I love you, too. Many times I have tried to change this; there is no hope for a King and the daughter of a common merchant, no matter how much they may love each other. Surely you must know that as well as I. I love the kingdom too much to see it thrown into turmoil over someone as cowardly and insignificant as myself. I only find the courage to tell you this now, when I know the odds of my return are nearly impossible and the information can no longer jeopardize the stability of, well … everything. In many ways, I do not regret this expedition; Estora will be a wonderful Queen, but I cannot bring myself to remain in your presence knowing that another barrier stands between us._

_If you are reading this letter, then I did not return from Blackveil. Please know that I entered Blackveil willingly, and did everything in my power to ensure Sacordia's safety; I fought with my very last breath._

_I am sorry that even up until the last, I could not find the courage to tell you any of this in person._

_Serving as your Green Rider has been honor._

_Karigan_

 

* * *

 

Karigan had stopped screaming.

She was suffocating; she could feel it in the burn of her lungs every time she tried to take a breath. She tried to regulate her heartbeat, to remain calm and focus on drawing in as much oxygen as the stone surrounding her would allow, but it was all to no avail. After all that she had been through, all of the scrapes that she had somehow gotten herself out of, she was about to find her end. She had never imagined her death, but she had never expected to go so … mundanely.

The sensation of light dusting her eyelids made her open her eyes for the last time; a shape, vaguely human and yet distorted, reached for her in a cloud of gray light. The Birdman had finally come for her, come to take her out her stone prison.

"Westrion …"


	3. Chapter 3

Fastion was not certain what he thought of his King's breach of Rider G'ladheon's privacy, but he could not say with certainty that he would not do the same if he found himself in such a situation. Although he had stood a discreet distance away from where his liege had sat reading the letter, the expressions that crossed Zachary's face were as legible to Fastion as he knew the words were to the other man; he had not seen such rapid and constant fluctuations of mood from anyone in so long that he had almost missed some of them: shock, joy, sorrow … and, of course, fear. Whatever Karigan had written in that letter, there was no denying that it had exacted a profound effect on Zachary.

Now, at just after six hour and officially off duty for the morning, Fastion looked forward to getting reacquainted with his bed. The King had spent the remainder of the early morning hours sequestered in Karigan's bedroom, alternating between rereading her letter and Yates' journal; only when Fastion had pointed out the lightening of the sky and the questions that would arise if he was found in a Rider's bedroom in his night robe did Zachary consent to returning to his chamber. The King had replaced the stack of unread letters in the drawer where he had found them, slipped the one addressed to him inside the journal and tiptoed from the room with a silence that even Fastion could be proud of.

The sound of someone running set him assaulted his ears then, putting him on his guard immediately. Someone running within the castle walls was never a good sign; he turned to see who was in such a rush and where they were going, mentally preparing himself to take down as many details as he could.

"Fastion!"

The sound of his name surprised him as much as the revelation that the runner was, in fact, another Weapon. Fastion's mind instantly turned to the King's safety; he had not left the King's chambers more than ten minutes ago – what had happened in those minutes?

"You must come quickly!"

"The King?" He queried shortly.

The woman shook her head. "You are needed in the tombs; Brienne awaits you and urges to make haste!"

The tombs? Surely they could not be under attack again! Decorum was thrown to the wind as Fastion propelled himself down the hallway, the Weapon who had played messenger hot on his heels.

He disappeared into a darkened hallway, his feet carrying him down an invisible but well-known trail. As new as she was, the female Weapon began to fall behind, unfamiliar with the passageways of the castle; Fastion did not stop to guide her.

"Brienne?" He called out softly as he approached the entrance to the tombs, knowing that she would hear him.

His friend and fellow Weapon peeled away from the shadows and Fastion received his second shock of the morning: in her arms, pale as a ghost covered in blood of varying degrees of freshness, was Karigan.

In the single breath that he hesitated, the Green Rider took her last, and was still.

* * *

Estora was slowly coming to recognize the Weapons that always seemed to surround her and Zachary, but had to admit that she still could not put a name with most of their faces. The man stepping briskly toward them now, however, she thought she could be confident in calling Donal.

Next to her, Zachary had noticed the other man's approach and held up a hand to stall the new castellan that had come to the King's study and requested a private audience.

"Forgive the interruption, Your Highness," Donal murmured, "but Rider G'ladheon has been found."

Estora's surprise was mirrored on her husband's face.

"Where?" He asked tersely.

"Here, Sire. Weapon Quinn found her in the tombs and immediately sent for help."

"Is she alive?"

"I do not know, Sire."

Estora could not make heads or tails of how she felt; there were so many thoughts and emotions tumbling around within her that it was nothing more than a tangled mess of uncertainty. She was relieved, yes, and happy – but she thought she could also detect a shadow of regret. She had meant what she told Zachary: Karigan was her friend, and she truly did hope for her safe return. There was only one part - one tiny, hidden part - of her that was just reasonable enough to admit that at least one obstacle would have been removed from her life if the Green Rider did not, in fact, return: Zachary would not be torn between a marriage of political convenience and the woman he loved.

Was she a horrible person? She sincerely hoped not.

"Take me to her."

 

* * *

 

Fastion blew another great breath into still lungs and began pumping again. His hands dwarfed Karigan's torso as he tried to restart her heart, and he was careful not to crush her ribcage beneath his weight. Brienne, who had placed Karigan on the ground and now knelt across from him, began to shake her head.

"We are too late," she told him somberly.

Fastion ignored her and covered the Rider's icy lips with his own, pushing another huff of air into her mouth. Failure – death – was not an option; not for her; not like this and not yet.

He knew the moment he had pressed too hard; there was the slightest give beneath his hand and he ripped it away before he could break the bone entirely. At the same moment, a weak breath rattled within the Rider's chest, drawn in without any help from him.

That was all the encouragement he needed. Karigan felt no heavier than a child as Fastion swept her off the floor and traveled as quickly down the hallway as he dared, headed for every short cut to the mending wing he could remember. Every few seconds he glanced down to make sure that Karigan was still breathing and then doubled his speed, as close to desperate as he had ever been for someone's welfare outside his King.

As if on cue, the King himself turned the corner in front of him, Donal just ahead of him. For the first time in his life, Fastion did not so much as slow down or glance at the other man; he blew right past the other two people and hoped that Zachary would understand his urgency.

Zachary was hollering for the Master Mender the moment the mending wing came into view, drawing several startled glances and initiating a flurry of movement. Fastion found the first available room and lowered the Rider carefully onto the bed; behind him, he could hear the King dispatching Donal to track down Ben, the Green Rider with a healing gift.

Zachary moved to Karigan's side and took one nearly frozen hand in his own, taking her in. She was pale and cold as death, a great shard of what looked to be glass embedded in one leg. Her chestnut hair had started to escape the braid that draped the pillow, and his gaze was drawn to a large white feather that had been tucked in the strands, a thin splash of old blood the color of rust marring the otherwise perfect expanse.

"Five hells, Karigan," He whispered, "What happened to you?"

"Westrion …"

The word was faint, more an exhalation of air than of actual sound, but he heard it.

"Karigan?" Zachary prodded.

"Ben and the Master Mender are here, Your Highness," Donal said then.

Zachary released Karigan's hand and stepped away from the bed to allow the healers access; Fastion did what came natural to him and tucked himself into a corner. Ben, who was surprisingly young, blanched at the sight of his fellow Rider; the expression was not lost on those in the room.

"Where was she found?" Master Mender Dray asked.

"In the tombs," Fastion answered evenly, "Agemon heard her screaming and called for Weapon Quinn; they found her in an empty sarcophagus."

"She must have been there some time," the healer muttered to himself, "her knuckles are beat bloody. Is that part of a mirror in her leg? How in the Five Hells … Ben!"

"Here, sir," the young man answered, moving closer to Karigan's side.

Dray looked the young Rider up and down and then shook his head. "Never mind, you are not big enough. Fetch some hot water and bandages, as well as the willow bark draught."

Only when he was certain that Ben had scurried away on his errand did Dray turn his gaze to the others in the room. "Sire, you will need to restrain her arms. Weapon …"

"Is that really necessary?" Zachary interrupted.

"The glass in her leg must come out. Weapon Fastion, you will restrain her legs."

Both men moved toward their appointed positions.

Karigan's skin was like ice beneath Zachary's hands; exactly how long had she been in the tombs? He could recall the few times Karigan had been found last year after her brooch had pulled her through time, and each time he knew she had returned to them nearly frozen. She was quite possibly even colder now than she had been any of those times, and he had to drive away the thought of Karigan screaming and beating at stone walls until her hands were raw.

Ben returned with a pitcher of still steaming water and a roll of clean bandages, setting them hastily on the worktable Dray had pulled to his side.

"Prepare yourselves," Dray told them.

Zachary pinned Karigan's arms to her sides with his own, leaning some of his weight against her small frame in anticipation. The angle he had taken up did not allow him to see Fastion, but he knew the other man was doing much the same.

Dray grasped the mirror shard firmly in both hands, took a steadying breath, and pulled.

Karigan's eyes snapped open at the same moment she started screaming.

"Stop!" she begged, half screaming and half crying, "Please, stop!"

"Karigan," Zachary called, trying to keep his tone soothing, "look at me, Karigan."

She gave no indication that she heard him, her whole body straining to free itself of his hold. He did not want to hurt her but could not let her go; he exerted only enough force to keep her down as her chest strained against his in an effort to sit up.

"I have it," Dray said calmly, "We must move quickly, Ben; the wound shows early signs of festering."

Zachary only heard part of what was being said. Karigan sagged against the coverlet on the bed, her eyes staring blindly at the ceiling. He took the risk of moving one hand up to cup her cheek and turn her face to his as he repeated her name, searching for any kind of acknowledgement. The action gave him something to focus on other than the blind terror that had engulfed his heart from the moment Fastion had ran past him with Karigan in his arms.

"Come on, Kari," He said softly, wiping a loose strand of hair from her forehead, "look at me."

Wide blue eyes fixed on his face and blinked once, then twice. "He must not touch the mask."

"What mask?" he prodded, "there is no mask, Karigan."

"I smashed it. Oh, Yates." She moaned the last and started to cry. "I tried to save them … I tried so hard …"

"I know you did," he assured her.

She muttered something unintelligible and then closed her eyes and turned her face away; within seconds she was silent again.

"Step back, Sire," Dray said firmly, "Let young Ben begin his work."

Zachary had to peel himself away from her side. He faced the other occupants in the room with square shoulders, ready to meet their censure of the intimate way he had behaved with a common Rider, but was met with none. He doubted that Fastion or Donal would have said anything, but Dray either had not noticed or had wisely chosen not to let on that he had seen anything out of the ordinary.

"Everyone out now," the Master Mender said then, "Ben needs to work, and Rider G'ladheon needs rest."

"Fastion, you are to make your way straight to your bed," Zachary commanded as his Weapons followed him out the door, "I'm afraid you are asleep on your feet. Donal, you are to remain posted outside this door until I tell you otherwise; no one is allowed inside this room unless it is a healer or myself. And I want word as soon as she is awake, understood?"

"Yes, Sire."

Zachary squared his jaw. Appearances and propriety be damned; he was not taking any more chances with Karigan's life.


	4. Chapter 4

"What do you mean, 'not allowed'?" Mara demanded.

"My apologies, Rider Brennyn, but the King has ordered that no one be allowed to enter," Donal answered mildly. "Rider G'ladheon's room is off limits to all but the menders and the King himself."

"He can't just keep her locked away!" Mara sputtered in frustration. "I mean, he can, since he's the King and all, but … it's just … surely … oh, Hells!"

Word had reached the Rider wing yesterday that Karigan had been found and was currently in the Mending wing recovering from injuries sustained in Blackveil; Mara had been closely followed by Connly as they practically stormed the Mending wing and demanded to see her, only to be resolutely denied entrance. They had demanded to see Ben but were told that he remained secluded in Karigan's room, working to heal her injuries. Connly had talked Mara into leaving without much of a fight, pointing out that Karigan would undoubtedly be sleeping and needed all the rest she could get. Mara had resolved to try again as soon as her duties would permit.

Her duties being what they were, Mara had only found the time to make her way back to the Mending wing later the next evening; now, she stood in front of a stoic Donal once more and tried not to light the whole wing on fire in her frustration.

"Where is Ben?" She demanded again, switching tactics.

"He left Rider G'ladheon's room some hours ago and has not yet returned," was the toneless answer.

"I insist on seeing Karigan, Weapon, and I will not leave until I have done so!"

"You have a long night ahead of you, Rider Brennyn."

Mara fixed her best glare on the very formidable man standing in front of her, and for a brief moment she thought she detected the beginnings of a smile. The moment was gone quickly, however, leaving her staring daggers into a visage that may as well have been carved from stone.

"This is ridiculous!" Mara nearly yelled, throwing her hands up in defeat. "I have half a mind to march right up to King Zachary and tell him …"

"No need to march anywhere, Rider Brennyn," a smooth voice intoned behind her, "for I am here. Now what is it you would like to tell me?"

Mara had the good sense to blush all the way to the roots of her wildly bouncy curls and immediately dropped into a curtsy. When she rose and finally managed to lift her eyes, she felt relieved to see that the King's gaze seemed more amused than affronted. Truly, she must learn to control her temper; Captain Mapstone had warned her repeatedly that it would get her in big trouble someday soon.

"Forgive me, Your Highness, I am frustrated and let my temper fuel my words."

"I understand, Rider Brennyn. I appreciate that Rider G'ladheon is a friend – and fellow messenger – and that it is only natural for you to wish to see her. I admit, I placed Donal here for exactly this reason; your friend was found in grave condition, and I do not wish her to be disturbed until the menders are certain that she is no longer in danger."

Karigan had been found in grave condition? Mara did not like the sound of that; very few details had been given to them concerning the manner of Karigan's discovery in the castle or how she had arrived, and Connly had been unable to find any answers despite having spent most of the previous evening asking questions. How grave must her condition to be to necessitate one of the King's personal Weapons posted outside her door?

"I have come to check on Rider G'ladheon's condition, Rider Brennyn, and promise to send a runner straight to Rider Connly when I have been apprised of her condition. I am afraid, however, that Donal here must continue to deny you entry – no matter how fierce your temper."

Zachary smiled at her to take any sting that she may have perceived out of his words.

"Of course, Your Majesty."

Mara waited for the King to nod at her in dismissal and begin to step away from her before turning her back on Karigan's door and making her way down the hall. She would seek out Connly and let him know of the King's assurance to keep them informed, and recommend that he should send a message to the Captain in Corsa if he hadn't already done so. Captain Mapstone would want to know of the events of the expedition whether she was on leave or not.

Mara resigned to get some dinner and track down Lynx to see if he knew of Karigan's discovery, or what possible injuries she may have had; if she did not hear that Connly had received a message any later than tomorrow morning, then she was determined to plant herself in front of Donal and stay there until she was either allowed into that room, or Karigan came out.

 

* * *

 

The creatures of Blackveil pressed in around her in a mass of undulating bodies that twined in and out of each other like a giant serpent. The sound was almost worst than the sight: over the constant hum of hummingbirds and  _click-clack_  of giant crabs, she could make out the voices of Grae and Hana and Yates as they tried to yell instructions to one another over the din.

Karigan stopped walking and slammed her eyes shut, throwing her hands over her ears to drown out the sounds. The terrible cacophony grew in response and she did not doubt that she was just about to feel herself ripped to shreds when a soft pressure on her shoulder made her eyes spring open.

Yates stood before her, a twisted grin on his face and an odd light in his eyes. He bowed to her just as he always had, but there was something grotesque about the way his body twisted, as if his torso wasn't really connected to his waist. She opened her mouth to scream but the sound was choked in blood; she pulled her hands away from her ears and held them in front of her face only to discover that one was so badly broken it was nearly turned around, the palm facing up, and the other split open to the bone and leaving trails of blood to runnel down her face.

"How does it feel, Karigan, to know that you kept me alive all that time, only to lose me to Alessandros?"

Yates mouth opened unnaturally wide, revealing row upon row of pinpoint sharp teeth, and then he lunged for her. The scream finally tore from her throat and she took off running as fast as her injured leg would carry her. Her blood pulsed in her ears, the rhythm soon joined by the raggedness of her breathing as she tore through the trees. The venom in her leg was spreading throughout her body with every step she took: she could feel it like a current of the hottest water imaginable as it traveled through her blood stream.

The trees broke and the wall stretched out before her, a neutral gray in the unsteady colors of her world. She tried to push harder, knowing that the wall meant safety; the wall meant home.

A tumbler sprang in front of her and before she could blink she found herself on her back in the grass, her lungs struggling for air. The ghostly sound of laughter rang in her ears, and yet she knew that there was no laughter to be heard; when she finally managed to push herself into a sitting position, the tumbler stood perfectly poised on one leg in front of her, blocking her path to the wall. He was wearing the mirror mask.

The head tilted to the side, almost like a bird, and then with an audible clap that came from nowhere she was back at the costume ball, bodies swirling around her in a nauseating blur of colors.

"I destroyed that mask," she whispered. "I smashed it at my feet."

The tumbler straightened his head and the mask transformed into the green one. "You must choose a mask, Karigan," Captain Mapstone's voice told her from unmoving lips.

"I do not wear masks."

"Of course you do." Estora sounded colder, harsher, and when the tumbler reached up to pull the mask from its face Karigan found herself looking once more at her friend who was no longer a friend. Estora was just as beautiful as she remembered, but there was a hardness to her gaze that told Karigan she was not among friends. "We all wear masks, Karigan, it's how we play the game."

"I am not playing a game!" Karigan insisted.

"What if I told you that one of these masks could give you everything your heart desires?"

Estora swept one smooth hand through the air beside her and Karigan found herself looking into a pair of almond shaped eyes that warmed her instantly. Zachary was watching her intently, so close she could smell him. "Please come home to me, Kari," he told her softly. "I need you here with me."

Karigan began to cry.

"Zachary …"

"I'm here, Karigan."

"Zachary, I'm so sorry."

Karigan pushed herself to her feet, every movement sending bolts of fire and blinding pain through her body. She clenched her jaw and pushed harder, the salt of her tears leaving tracks through the dried blood on her cheek.

She took one step forward; in front of her, Estora pulled a beautiful hunting knife from her sleeve and sneered at her, the expression turning her once friendly visage into a nightmare.

"He will never be yours, Messenger!" the Lady screamed.

Karigan automatically threw up a hand to defend herself, but the blow never came. Estora and the masked dancers around them were frozen in place; she looked from one dancer to the next, her horror multiplying as she realized that their ranks consisted of the people she knew and loved, both dead and alive.

"C'mon, Kari," a little voice urged.

Karigan drew her gaze away from the horrible scene in front of her and found herself looking into the upturned faces of two little boys, the smallest of whom had wrapped one small hand around the last three fingers of her hand.

"'Tum on." This was accompanied by a tug on her fingers.

Stunned, Karigan let herself be led through the crowd of dancers, her eyes not leaving the forms of the little boys in front of her. She recognized them and the familiar way her heart seemed to expand in their presence, the fierce protectiveness that seemed to leap out of her and envelop their tiny frames. She expected to see little wooden swords strapped to their sides, but was prevented from looking by a vast darkness opening up before her.

When she looked, Karigan immediately recognized the graceful hulk of Salvistar waiting for her. She was about to groan when the light around the ebony steed began to shift and swirl; a warm gust of air swept around her, pulling her hair up around her shoulders. She had the impression of great arms reaching toward her and the soft twinkle of stars, and then all the pain and fire left her body in a rush. She felt no pressure and yet knew that she was being embraced; her skin tingled with the warmth and perfection of it.

"Westrion," She murmured, the horrors of Blackveil fading from her mind.

For the first time since becoming a Green Rider, Karigan knew no fear, or uncertainty or strain; for the first time in her life, she did not think about the people she loved.

"Take me home."

Where was home?

 

* * *

 

Zachary paced; in the bed next to him, Karigan continued to mumble unintelligible words from her place beneath the blankets. He thought he had recognized something about masks, and it made sense when he recalled how she had spoken about a mask in those brief seconds of consciousness he had witnessed the other day. But what mask could she be talking about? More importantly, why hadn't she woken up yet? He had spoken with Ben earlier and the young mender had assured the King that he had done what he could for her injuries. The list that he had rattled off – at the King's insistence – nearly made Zachary nauseous: beside the obvious piece of glass embedded in her thigh and the open slice in her hand, she had come to them with a broken wrist and the remnants of a foreign poison in her system. Someone, maybe Karigan herself, had been possessed of the good sense to splint the wrist with a pair of finely crafted arrows that no one doubted were Eletian; the poison, although Ben had assessed the majority of it to have already left her system, still raged with enough fervor in her veins to bring on fever.

Ben had worked through the night and exhausted both himself and his talent in his efforts to repair the damage to Karigan's body. The Rider had made sure the King understood that he could do nothing to remove or lessen whatever trauma her mental and emotional faculties had withstood during her time in Blackveil, and that there was no way insure that Karigan came back to them at all.

At least as terrifying as the idea that Karigan might not come back to him at all was the fear of what kind of condition she would be in if she did. What had happened to his courageous Rider? What had she been made to suffer … at his decree?

"Westrion."

The word brought him around quickly. The King perched carefully on the edge of Karigan's bed, his stomach icing over in fear. This was not the first time he had heard Karigan utter the Birdman's name, or the first time the thought had occurred to him that it sounded almost like a familiar greeting between friends.

"Karigan?" he said softly.

She sighed and turned her face toward him but remained unresponsive.

"Karigan," he tried again, his voice nearly a whisper in his earnestness, "Come back."

She seemed to hear him without knowing that she did, or who was addressing her.

"So tired," she answered, "So much pain. Take me home."

"No," Zachary said forcefully, his heart leaping into his throat. Where was home? "Karigan, you must come back. Do you hear me?"

He couldn't resist cupping her cheek – still warm and flushed from the fever – in one calloused hand, the feel of her skin against his grounding him. He went one step further and placed a kiss on her forehead, praying that he wasn't about to lose his chance of one day receiving a kiss, freely given, from her lips.

"Please, Kari; please come back to me."

His heart felt like stone in his chest. He sent up about one hundred prayers and promises to Westrion simultaneously, in the span of a few seconds: he begged the Birdman not to take her from him, to keep her soul tethered to her body and send her back to those who needed her more than the God ever could. The King promised to do anything and everything the Birdman asked of him, if only he would not keep Karigan for himself. All of this he did in the span of a breath, his eyes closed just as he used to do when he was a boy and would wish on stars.

"Zachary?"

His name … that voice … he opened his eyes and found himself staring into familiar, fever bright blue ones.

"You're alive." His voice was gravelly and deep with the strain of holding in a sob. "You came back to me."

In the shock of hearing her voice and seeing those intelligent blue eyes staring back at him, Zachary did not grasp the slight movement that was the lifting of her body to meet his. In the space of just a moment Karigan's warm lips had come to press against his; in the confusion, his heart took advantage of the way his mind faltered and kissed her back.

The moment felt as if it was stolen from a dream. He knew the exultation and pleasure of finally kissing the lips he had spent the last few years dreaming about; he knew the quickness with which his own desire could be ignited by such a chaste act, and the ease and completeness with which he could give himself to her. Even as she pulled her silky lips from his, he wanted to pull her against him and kiss her into oblivion. His hands demanded to hold her, to press her lithe form against him and lower their bodies to the bed and make sure she never left his side again. The kiss had been too short, the contact not nearly enough to sate him; he felt as though he had been singed by an ethereal fire.

Reeling with the suddenness and shock of the last few seconds, his brain setting off warning bells even as the rest of him demanded their complete surrender to each other, Zachary almost missed her next words.

"I always come back to you, Zachary. Where are the boys?"


	5. Chapter 5

She blinked again in rapid succession, but the double vision would not leave her. She tried to focus on Zachary's face, but was finding it difficult to choose between the two versions of it that shone very clearly back at her. One shone with a bright smile, as if welcoming her home, and the other looked strangely drawn and shocked, and more than slightly worried. Confused, Karigan glanced away from the man in front of her to the dark wraith of a man that stood behind him; she recognized Fastion immediately, but her consternation only grew when she noted that there were not two versions of the Weapon staring back at her. There was only one Fastion, dressed entirely in black and his stony expression undermined by a very real relief shining in his eyes.

"What boys, Karigan?" Zachary said very carefully from in front of her.

Her gaze returned to the King – or, rather, both versions of him. What was going on? She had never experienced such double vision before, at least not until Laurelyn …

Not until Laurelyn had allowed her to see the convergence of two different times, a piece of history layered over the fabric of her current life. In a rush she knew that she had made a great blunder, that she had mistaken the gray world for her own; there were no boys, no matter how perfectly she could recall their faces or feel the pressure of fingers on her own.

The awareness of what she had done, how she had greeted her King and the intimate way she was pressed into him even now made her skin nearly crawl with the heat of her blush, and she scurried as far away from him as she could manage as quickly as she could. The two faces of the King that she could still see seemed to mirror each other's look of sadness, but she ignored them both.

"Lynx," she said hoarsely, trying to cover her blunder, "And Yates. And … and Lhean, he was with me … Ealdean … Telagioth …"

She saw again the Sleepers as they converged on her friends and companions, saw Mornhavon reaching toward her and suddenly she felt nearly hysterical. She had to be in the castle, but how in the Five Hells had she gotten there? Why was she seeing two of Zachary, and not of Fastion? The enormity and confusion of it all was enough to make her hyperventilate.

"Breathe, Karigan," Zachary said calmly. "Weapon Quinn found you in the tombs and sent for Fastion. No one knows how you got down there, or how long you were there before you were found, but you are in the Mending wing and you are safe."

His tone was all warmth and reassurance, but the hysterics had already taken hold. He had not answered her questions about her companions – had they been left to die? Why had she been delivered to safety if the rest of them had been left in that nightmare?

The room was suddenly too small and too hot, the air in her lungs feeling as though it might burn its way through her chest. She threw the blanket off of her and practically vaulted from the bed in her panic, senseless to the state of her dress, and bolted from the room before a stunned Zachary could even glance at his Weapon.

The Rider catapulted from the room only to feel a strong hand wrap around her bicep as she tried to flee. The panic bubbled into a scream as she flung herself around to face her attacker; she had already landed a ferocious punch before recognizing the man to be Donal. His hand released her arm out of reflex and she was too terrified to register Zachary's voice demanding that she not be touched. Her legs felt weak, and the one that had been stuck with poisonous thorns protested as though it were broken.

The screaming had given way to sobs, but she seemed not to notice. She needed to get out, but she knew that if she attempted even one step more her legs would fail her.

"Karigan?"

She brought her gaze up and took in the sight of a very real Estora standing just a few feet in front of her, resplendent in a summery blue dress that amplified her beauty in a way that Karigan found absolutely horrifying. Her double vision flared, and she very clearly saw two Estora's: the one standing perfectly still in front of her, and the one charging her with a hunting knife.

"NO!"

The word tore from the depths of her gut, half plea and half helpless rage; she tried to back away and her weak body lurched, but it threw her forward instead of back and everything in her being screamed that she didn't want to die.

In an almost coordinated movement, three bodies lunged for the collapsing woman: Zachary was the closest, but Donal heaved himself with great force away from the wall; both men were a breath slower than the ever efficient Fastion, who came in second to a man that no one had known was there seconds ago: Lynx.

The other Rider crashed to his knees in his effort to catch her, both long arms shooting out to brace Karigan's weakened body. The momentum of her fall, though slowed by his arms, would have carried her to the floor anyway if Lynx had not pulled her quickly to him, rocking him off his knees and onto his butt. He landed hard, the stone floor jarring his bones, but Karigan was clutched safely against his chest.

"Lynx!" Karigan sobbed, staring into the face of his that was clearer, "I don't want to die. She wants me dead, why does everyone want me dead?"

"No one here is trying to kill you, Karigan," Lynx' voice answered from above her. "You are home, where you are safe."

"I am never safe," she whispered brokenly, one hand clutching at the material of her nightgown. "Someone is always after me."

"We are not after you, Rider," Fastion said gently. "We want to protect you."

"Rider Lynx, if you would please carry Rider G'ladheon back to her room," Zachary interrupted, "We can continue this conversation with much less unwanted attention."

Karigan's frightened screams had brought people from all over the corridor and surrounding rooms, all of whom had coalesced some feet away into a circle of worried and somewhat suspicious faces. Karigan was feverish and panicked, and though he would never fault her for anything that she may say in such a state, the last thing the King needed was public suspicion that someone was out to kill his most prolific Rider.

Lynx did not relinquish Karigan as he gathered his feet beneath him and pushed himself into a standing position. He followed the King and Fastion into the room, Donal once more posting himself outside the door and closing it as soon as Queen Estora had followed them into the room. Lynx placed his fellow Rider gently on the bed and pulled the blanket up around her, but as the room was small and rather cramped with four guests, he did not move far from the head of her bed.

Karigan was coming back to herself, a deep sense of shame making her blush at the thought of what she could only call a breakdown. At the same time, despite her belief in her fellow Riders' words of being safe, and Fastion's assurance that they only wanted to protect her, the fear would not be entirely dispelled.

"I … I don't know what happened," she started haltingly. "I don't know how I got here … I think I was dreaming, and when I woke up … there are two of you. Well, not you." The last she directed at Fastion, who was standing quietly near the foot of the bed.

"There are two of who?" Estora asked softly.

Karigan glanced only fleetingly at the woman who had once been a friend, who had sent an assassin into Blackveil with her to kill her if something else did not get to her first, but looked away quickly. When she answered, she fixed her gaze on the hand of hers that she knew had been cut.

"Everyone except Fastion. I don't know how to explain it, really … when Laurelyn came to me, the same thing happened … I mean, I think it was the same … she showed me past events, but that … I saw that piece of time layered over my own current one, like … double vision, I guess," she trailed off, worried that she really was going crazy.

"When you say there are two of us," Zachary started, his tone not at all disbelieving, "Can you explain more of what you mean? Do you see me as I am now, or as I was, say, as a child?"

"No, I see you, but there's another version of you; a little older, perhaps, it's hard to say. The other you seems …" She tried not to blush again, but managed to stop herself before saying 'more intimate', which had been the first words to come to mind. "The other you seems less distant – less distressed, or worried perhaps."

"And how do you know which me is the right one?" he queried.

To all present (except maybe Fastion), Zachary's question was a logical and relevant one, but Karigan thought she knew an ulterior motive in his asking it. The feel of his lips against hers was not one she would soon forget, although she knew she would certainly do her best to do exactly that.

"Um … I don't, at first."

"At first?" Lynx prodded. "You do not seem confused about me."

"Because … you're not really that different, I guess. The other you is … well, happier for lack of a better word. It's almost like a puzzle – I have to take what I knew of you before and compare it to the two versions of you that I see now," she explained.

"And what about the Queen?" Lynx continued, motioning slightly to Estora.

Whatever way he had intended for Karigan to find out about his marriage, this was not it; the horror Zachary felt at the casual way it fell out of the other Rider's mouth was, for the barest moment, reflected on Karigan's face. He wanted to explain everything to her right then, wanted to plant himself on the edge of her bed again and make her listen to what he had to say … he saw that pain she so quickly erased as plainly as if it were a picture engraved on his heart. Her pain doubled his, especially when he thought of the letter he had taken from her room so that he could reread her declaration of love for him at his leisure.

He could do nothing, however, except let the question stand and will her to look at him.

"When I saw her … one of her was standing still, and the other was aiming a knife at my throat."

"I would never hurt you, Karigan," Estora nearly whispered, the first she had spoken in long moments. "Surely you must know that?"

No one said anything while Karigan seemed to gather either her thoughts or her courage – or, perhaps, both.

"What I know," Karigan answered, looking directly at the woman who was now her Queen, "is that you sent an assassin into Blackveil, to make sure that I never came out."

"I would never do that!" Estora exclaimed, the first time her voice had conveyed anything like desperation. "You're my friend, Karigan, no matter what you say about commoners and nobles!"

"You gave Ard your blessing! He made that perfectly clear before he tried to take my life, a life that I have had to fight dearly for at every turn!"

"When I gave Ard my blessing, I had no idea that he had been ordered to kill you! You have to believe me, Karigan; I had no part in that plan. I have never wished you harm – why in the Five Hells would I wish you dead?"

"Because you hate me!" Karigan burst, her entire body shaking as she tried to focus on the version of Estora that was not sneering and pointing a knife at her. "You hate me because he loves me!"

Karigan wanted to physically reach out, snatch her words from the air and shove them forcefully back down her throat. Never in her life had she regretted any words more than she did the ones she had just uttered, but the damage was done. Moments ago she had been begging Lynx to let her live, and now she thought she would have been very happy to simply lie down and die.

Searing pain ripped through the leg that had caught the shard of mirror mask and lanced up her torso and across her back. She tried to scream but her lungs were being crushed, and her eyes nearly rolled into the back of her head with the pain. She heard nothing, she saw nothing, and the fleeting thought came to her that perhaps she had gotten her wish and was being struck dead. A small and hysterical part of her wanted to laugh at the thought that, for once in her life, something or someone had finally discovered perfect timing.

The pain receded enough for her to draw several ragged breaths, and her vision cleared just enough to make out, astoundingly, the D'Yer wall. Only, this was not the Wall that Karigan remembered; in fact, it wasn't much of a wall at all. Long sections of it had fallen away, and she watched in grim fascination as the creatures of Blackveil swarmed over the rubble in their haste to be free.

She knew then that they were all doomed, for Mornhavon had unleashed the horror of Blackveil upon them.

 

* * *

 

Donal had been on watch all day, but that did not stop him from volunteering to stay with a now sleeping Karigan. Fastion, however, would not hear of it and very nearly demanded that he be allowed to take his turn watching the Rider. Zachary had sided with Fastion, reminding Donal that even Weapons needed rest, and the other man had finally given a graceful bow and disappeared down the hallway.

Ben had assured and reassured them at least half a dozen times that Karigan had suffered no new physical wounds and that there was no visible cause for her fit before Lynx, Zachary and Estora could be persuaded to leave her room. When he had finally succeeded in that task, he had started (very timidly) in on impressing upon them all the need for Karigan to rest, and that nothing remotely exciting should occur anywhere near her; her body, he told them, was quite simply at the limit of what it could take, and that said nothing for her mental and emotional faculties. Ben had delivered his scolding so softly and smoothly that Estora wondered if she was the only one who recognized it as such.

Now, as she kept pace with Zachary and Lynx as they made their way out of the Mending wing, Willis behind them, she explained how Lynx had very persuasively asked to be allowed to visit Karigan, and how she had offered to escort him to her room personally. Zachary informed her that his first thought had been that she was bringing him bad tidings, but had been unable to account for Rider Lynx' presence. Perhaps it was the remnants of her argument with Karigan, but she nearly stopped him and demanded to know why he thought she would not come to simply visit her friend; only her well-honed restraint kept her from doing so.

Instead, Estora very politely excused herself and disappeared into her rooms so that she could vomit in private.


	6. Chapter 6

Laren ignored the desire to shift uncomfortably. Today's audiences felt as if they'd been dragging on for the better half of the day, and she hadn't stopped long enough this morning to have breakfast. She'd arrived just in time to report to Zachary and be asked to stand in for the morning's meetings; the fear and concern that had driven her to travel so quickly from Corsa had to be pushed aside until she was free to find out more.

Connly's letter – detailing Karigan's discovery and subsequent condition, as well as the loss of her other riders – had worked her into frenzy. She had dreaded just such information from the moment she sent her riders off on the expedition, and once she had received it there was nothing for her to do but rush back to the castle. And rushed she had, for all the good it had done her.

Her frustration with the delay was enough to make her clench her jaw; seconds later, she felt like screaming. The wild jump in her emotions set off a warning bell – she took a breath and refocused her thoughts. When the feeling subsided she cast her gaze around the room: several of the people waiting in line looked tense, but no more so than an older gentleman about half way back who looked as if he was ready to burst.

That was the other thing weighing heavily on Laren's mind: she had begun to notice a few days ago that her ability seemed to be changing. Perhaps changing wasn't the best word; growing seemed more fitting. The few towns that she had stopped in on her ride back to the city had been full of people scrambling to report strange happenings in the land. At first Laren had thought that these reports were merely coincidences, but their growing frequency and audacity had since started to give the Captain another idea: rogue magic was somehow on the loose.

These reports, along with the sudden and inexplicable amplification of her ability, left Laren with a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach.

Surprised voices, a few of which were raised in alarm, traveled over the noise of the audience chamber and drew Laren's attention to the other end of the room. The line of people waiting to be heard began to shift as the people at the back of the line began to shift away from the double doors, and just in time: the big doors swung wide open, but at first all the Captain could make out was a mass of bodies moving up the room. Weapons had coalesced out of darkness and surrounded the King, but her attention was drawn to the knot of people now moving toward them: lithe bodies clothed in sheer fabrics and gleaming armor, poised and silent.

Eletians.

Her surprise was mirrored and engorged by that of the general public around her, and Laren had to throw up her barriers again before the swell of emotion became too much.

Zachary seemed to realize who was in his audience hall as quickly as she did, for he stood and motioned for silence. The Weapons did not loosen the ring they had made around their King, but the few in front stepped down a step to allow him to be seen.

"Greetings, King Zachary." The Eletian in the front had spoken, and the pleasant tones of his voice seemed to subdue the crowd. "Pardon our intrusion."

"Prince Jametari – what a pleasant surprise." Zachary's voice was perfectly even and inviting, but Laren could feel the undercurrent of tension there.

Laren's tension mirrored that of her King's: what could have brought the Eletians to their doorstep, unannounced much less?

"We have come on important business that cannot wait," Jametari informed them, his eyes never leaving Zachary.

Laren's hackles raised immediately. The Eletians did not hurry; they were not rash. Whatever had driven them to their doorstep, into a crowded audience room to politely demand Zachary's attention, surely must be of a great importance. The problem, she knew, was that there was no way Zachary could grant such a request; if he did, then his people and counselors would accuse him of pandering to the Eletians at the expense of his kingdom. If he did not, he risked seriously offending a race of people that they simply could not afford to offend.

"I appreciate the urgency that has brought you here, Prince Jametari, and would be happy to discuss whatever information you would like at length; now, however, I am indisposed. My people must come first, as I'm sure you understand. I will be happy to have the Captain of my Green Riders see you to my personal study while you wait, of course."

Laren wanted to applaud Zachary for such a tactful response, but kept her eyes focused on the Eletian party instead. Surely if the information they brought was as important as they claimed, then they suffer the wait to deliver it, wouldn't they?

"I understand," the Eletian prince answered finally. "We shall wait in your study."

"Excellent. Captain Mapstone, if you would please escort our guests, I'll see that refreshments are brought straight away."

Laren bowed dutifully, thankful for the excuse to finally move again. Her day had just become infinitely more interesting.

 

* * *

 

Zachary did not make them wait long.

He positively swept into his study, Estora a few steps behind him and flanked by a Weapon. Prince Jametari was seated in the plush chair in front of his desk, his honor guard standing motionless behind him. Laren was leaning ever so slightly against the edge of his desk – or, she had been a moment ago. She had righted herself upon his entrance, but a quick nod from him told her silently to relax once more. He moved to his chair but, instead of seating himself, motioned for Estora to take the seat he had pulled out for her. He had noticed that she was looking tired today, and he was too worked up to sit.

"Forgive the delay," he started as soon as his Queen was seated. "You have my undivided attention."

"Thank you. First, I am afraid that I must make a request."

Zachary arched one eyebrow in silent curiosity.

"We would like to request the presence of the Galadheon before we continue."

Surprised, and not a little perturbed, Zachary glanced away from the Eletian prince and to his Captain. She also looked more than a little surprised at the request, but before either of them could make a reply, the prince spoke once again.

"I have been informed that she was returned to you – that is correct, I hope?"

"Yes," Zachary acquiesced. "Although I cannot stress enough the toll that was exacted upon her."

"Does her health render her unable to join us?"

"Rider G'ladheon has not been out of our mending wing long; the choice of whether or not she is well enough to join us will be left to her."

"Of course."

Zachary rang for a runner, who happened to be a sandy haired boy of the Green Foot he had been seeing a lot lately. He sent the boy after Karigan, painfully curious as to what the reason was behind the request. He recognized two of the Eletians standing behind their prince as members of the expedition into Blackveil, although he couldn't remember their names; the third Eletian was not familiar to him.

"I was sorry to hear of the loss of your brave people in Blackveil," Zachary told them kindly.

"Thank you." Jametari was not the one who answered, however; the stern faced one with spines on the shoulders of his armor had spoken. "We are also saddened by your loss. Your warriors showed great spirit."

"Thank you."

A knock sounded against the study door and Zachary's stomach dropped. He tried to ignore it, but the feeling was almost overwhelming. He had not seen Karigan in some days, since what he had silently taken to calling "The Incident". Was she on the other side of the door? Was she okay?

"Enter."

 

* * *

 

Karigan came to a halt beside the excited Green Foot runner in front of the study door, but quickly put out a hand to stop him before he could knock.

"Could you just … wait a minute?" she asked softly. "I'd like to catch my breath."

That wasn't a total lie. The young boy had set quite a blistering pace here from the Rider wing, and her leg simply would not sustain it. The glass had thankfully missed all the major veins and arteries, but it had done plenty of damage; healing was progressing slowly, and rushing about the castle was not going to help.

Not that she did much rushing these days. She had only been released from the Mending wing that week, and only with strict promises from Mara and her fellow riders that they would keep a close eye on her. The fever had broken but left her weak, and her appetite had not fully returned yet; the cut on her hand was healing well, and whatever aches and pains she had usually paled in comparison to the pain in her leg. All of which, of course, was not nearly as problematic to her as her vision was; her vision, which had insisted on retaining that irritating art of seeing two layers of everything. She had hoped that it was an effect of the fever and would wear off, but it showed no signs of doing any such thing. She was learning to live with it – and the daily headaches that accompanied it – but she was not learning to like it.

All of these things combined told her that perhaps she was not feeling up to an audience with the King in the best of circumstances. Having to remember the horrible way their last … meeting had ended made her want to scurry into a dark hole and hide, but she refused to let herself be a coward. At least, not any more of a coward than she already felt like, anyway.

"Who else is in there, Tomas?" she whispered to the boy next to her.

"The King, Queen Estora, Captain Mapstone, and some people I've never seen before," he answered with a conspiratorial wink. "Don't worry, I don't think you're in trouble."

That made her smile and she mussed the boy's hair fondly. She was doing her best to meet all the new members of the Green Foot and the Riders that had come in while she was away – it helped to take her mind off the friends she had lost.

"Alright then, better not keep them waiting. Go on."

Tomas stepped forward and knocked; Karigan passed an absent hand over Grae's feather, still tied into her hair, and tried to muster her strength.

"Enter."

Tomas gave her a bright grin and pushed the door open. Commanding her leg to cooperate, Karigan strode as smoothly as she could into the study.

She was shocked at the sight that greeted her.

Her eyes quickly found and catalogued the positions of Zachary, Estora and the Captain, but her breath hitched in her throat when they found the other occupants of the room. Prince Jametari would have been enough of a shock, but it was the Eletians standing behind him that really unsettled her: Telagioth, the spines on his armor as intimidating as ever, and Ealdean, his face momentarily devoid of any emotion, both stood facing her.

She could not keep her mind from recalling the last time she had seen them, amidst the fray in Argenthyne just before she smashed the Mirror mask at her feet …

"Welcome, Galadheon." Jametari's voice was warm, but she barely heard him.

Karigan tried to speak, but her throat felt thick. She took suddenly halting steps toward her friends – for surely they could be nothing else after such shared experiences – and felt betrayed by the single tear that escaped her eye.

"You're alive," she finally managed.

Telagioth moved first, coming quickly to her side in a rare show of emotion. He took her elbow and guided her over to where his counterparts stood, all three of whom were smiling gently at her.

"We are, Galadheon," Ealdean said softly. "And glad to see that you are as well."

Karigan could not keep herself from reaching out to hug both Telagioth and Ealdean in turn, mildly surprised when they not only allowed such a show of emotion, but also returned it. When she finally pulled away and turned to the third Eletian, she felt as if she were trying to remember a dream she'd had many years ago; there was a feeling of familiarity, but an inability to recall why.

"You were wounded the last time we met, proud Galadheon," he told her with a quiet smile. "We Eletians were not much more than a song in a glade …"

"Somial?" she asked incredulously.

"You honor me with your memory."

She was so overjoyed to see such an unexpected face that she had to hug him as well, and was abashed to realize that she might have been lost in emotion if it wasn't for the sudden sound of someone clearing their throat. She turned – somewhat sheepishly – to find that the other members of the room were watching the rest of them with a range of expressions on their face.

Jametari had been the one to clear his throat, and Karigan did her best to straighten herself and bow as respectfully as her leg would allow.

To her great surprise, the Eletian prince inclined his head in response.

"You honor my sister." He motioned to the feather in her hair. "I am grateful. Now we may continue."

"Rider G'ladheon."

That voice made her pulse jump, but she ignored it and turned her attention to the King.

"Sire?"

"Please have a seat." He motioned to a chair that had been placed next to the desk, right next to where her Captain stood.

Karigan made her way to the chair and tried not to focus on how strange it felt to be asked to sit when her King and her Captain remained standing. She was one of only three people sitting in the room; what did it mean that the other two were a Prince and a Queen?

"We bring very important information," Prince Jametari started. "Magic is once again loose in the world. Not just any magic, however; a sickly, twisted magic that could only have come from one place."

"Blackveil," Karigan blurted, before she could stop herself.

"Correct," Jametari answered. "Our scouts have reported increased sightings of Groundmites, farther from the wall than before, as well as a particularly cruel imitation of a hummingbird."

Karigan closed her eyes, momentarily fighting off the memory of a hummingbird impaling someone with its beak. Such creatures would wreak havoc outside the wall.

"These creatures are not the only problem, although they are formidable one. We have also had reports of strange happenings in the land itself: rivers that have started to flow backward, animals suddenly turning to stone, freezing snows one day and scorching heat the next. Have you had no such reports?"

"I have received a few," Zachary answered. "Captain Mapstone?"

"I, too, received strange reports on my return to the city, mostly of animals behaving strangely or people suddenly having an ability they did not the night before."

"Have you, as magic users, noticed no difference?"

The Prince had directed this question to Karigan and Captain Mapstone; Karigan, unsure of how to answer – or whether to answer at all – glanced first at Zachary, and then at her Captain.

"I have noticed an … amplification of my ability," Mapstone admitted, looking for Zachary's approval before she said more. "It seems to have given me the power of empathy."

Jametari nodded, as if such information was just what he'd expected. Perhaps he had been expecting it – after all, what sort of changes were the Eletians noticing, being a people whose existence revolved so wholly around magic?

"Be watchful for any negative effects of such an ability, although I do not doubt the ability itself is enough of a problem."

"How so?" Zachary queried.

"We are not meant to know another's innermost emotions. Perhaps useful at times, I will admit, such an influx of emotion would be … tiring, at best. Imagine feeling the emotion of each person in this room, at every moment."

"It doesn't seem to have gotten that far … yet," Laren corrected. "I only notice when the emotion is particularly strong, or when I am caught off guard."

"I hope, for your sake, Captain, that it stays that way. And you, Galadheon?"

Karigan wondered if the Captain could feel how uncomfortable she was in that moment, or how desperately she wanted to ignore the Prince's question. How was she supposed to answer? Was her double vision an effect of her ability gone wild? Then again, how could it be? Her ability was to fade between realms – wouldn't an amplification of that be to render herself completely invisible?

Then it occurred to her that no one in the room outside of herself, Zachary and Estora even knew about the double vision. Well, Zachary knew, at least – Karigan couldn't remember if Estora knew or not. There were several days there that she hardly remembered at all, and what she did remember was cloudy and indistinct.

Well, Captain Mapstone was in for quite the surprise.

"You may answer, Rider G'ladheon," Zachary told her softly.

She tried not to shift uncomfortably. "I have … double vision, I guess you could call it."

"Explain please," Jametari prodded when she did not continue.

"I see two versions of everyone; the one that's present, and another."

Jametari's face betrayed no emotion, but he did something she had never seen an Eletian do; he steepled his fingers and brought them up to rest under his chin.

"You see this at all times?" he questioned.

"Yes."

"How do you make sense of it? How do you know to whom you speak?"

Karigan felt the blood rush into her face in a furious blush, but she did not look away from the Eletians. Oddly, it was only now that she was noticing that there were not two versions of each of them; rather, the air around them seemed to shimmer, as if heated.

"I don't always. I'm getting better though, at least with people I know. There are little differences; quirks, scars that I remember … things like that."

"That would explain the eyes."

The comment was spoken so softly she almost didn't catch it. Her attention snapped away from Jametari and to Somial, who was standing quietly behind his party and watching her.

"My eyes?" Karigan inquired. "Is something wrong with them?"

"Of course not – they're beautiful."

Her blush intensified. How could an Eletian – the most beautiful beings she had ever laid eyes upon, surely – find anything about her beautiful?

Next to her chair, the Captain shifted suddenly, and Karigan wondered if the other woman had felt the way Karigan's heart jumped at hearing any part of her called beautiful.

"What Somial means to say," Jametari began, "is that there is a marked difference in your countenance, Galadheon, one that we have not seen in a very long time. In Eletia, we simply call it the Gift; one who has been bestowed with such ability appears to always have … what do you call it? Stars in their eyes? Only, with the Gift, the stars are literal: little flecks of light, like stars in a night sky."

"You speak very reverentially of such a Gift," Estora observed, the first time she'd spoke. Karigan had forgotten she was in the room at all.

"Yes. As I said, the Gift has not been seen in a long time; the last to have been known to wield it was Laurelyn herself."

A huge slab of concrete slamming into her chest would have felt similar to the sensation now spreading through Karigan's chest. Her double vision was a gift? A gift that Laurelyn, Queen and beloved of the Eletians, had experienced all those years ago? How … why had such a gift come to her? What did it mean?

And what in the Five Hells was she supposed to do with it?

"What does this Gift do?" Captain Mapstone asked in Karigan's silence.

"It allows the person to see between worlds."

"Like my brooch allows me to travel the Gray plain?"

"Not quite. That plane is more of an intermediary, a buffer between worlds. What you are seeing, Galadheon, are the worlds themselves. You see this world – the one that we currently occupy, in this time – and the world as it could be, or was."

"So Karigan can see through time?" Estora asked.

"Not necessarily. The Gift is not linear, which is part of why it's so hard to master. It is also not restricted to reality."

"What do you mean, not restricted to reality?" Karigan finally joined.

"Your two versions of Captain Mapstone, for instance: you may see her as she is now, but the other version you see could be a manifestation of what you equate her with. For example, you might see her as older, an opponent, even a mother."

"Why don't I see two of you? Any of you?" she motioned to the assembled Eletians.

"We do not experience time as you do. What do you see?"

"The air sort of … shimmers, around you. Like an image on the surface of water that hasn't settled; something's there, but I can't quite make it out."

Karigan watched in consternation as Jametari's face registered genuine surprise; behind his chair, Ealdean and Telagioth shared a fleeting look, and Somial's grin widened.

"What did I say?" she asked quickly.

"I am … amazed that you are able to see that much, Galadheon. Were you Eletian, the Gift would manifest itself differently. The fact that you are human means you should see nothing when you look at us; that you can register any difference around us, and even that your mind is trying to make sense of it, is curious."

"Do you believe, Prince Jametari, that Rider G'ladheon's ability is an effect of this wild magic?" The question came from Zachary, who had started to pace in the area behind his desk.

"It is possible; I cannot say without more information. The point is, we believe this magic is coming straight from Blackveil, and that it will only get worse. In light of what my people tell me of the expedition to Argenthyne, I believe this is a deliberate move by Mornhavon."

"Mornhavon?" Karigan repeated darkly.

"Yes. I believe you may have trapped him, but he is not gone. I believe he is trying to bring chaos to our lands, to unsettle us and pave the way for his return."

"This is important information, indeed, but I wonder that you have brought it to us yourself, Prince Jametari."

"Your perceptiveness is a credit to you, King Zachary. Mornhavon is a threat to us all, and one I do not believe either of us can defeat on our own. Despite the high price exacted upon both of our people's, the expedition into Blackveil has assured me that our people can work effectively together. I am here to propose a joint effort – an alliance, if you will."

"Well, you have certainly given us a lot to think about and discuss. Am I correct in assuming that you will remain close while a decision is being made?"

"Yes."

"Then, although I know how you feel about staying in the castle, please allow me to extend the use of our extensive grounds for your party, and any others who have accompanied you."

"Thank you. As our party is small, we will gladly accept your offer."

The meeting clearly at a close, Zachary dismissed them all. Karigan rose stiffly to her feet, trying to mask a grimace as the damaged muscles in her leg pulled with the effort. Captain Mapstone placed a firm hand behind her elbow for support and she muttered a thank you, hating that it was necessary.

"May I escort you out?"

The voice that addressed her was warm and musical, and she was smiling before she even realized who was speaking. Somial stood before her, one hand extended toward her and impossibly blue eyes twinkling in a way that made her think of laughter.

"Oh, I don't want to …"

"… Be a burden?" he finished for her, and she blushed again. "The burden would be in going another minute without your presence at my side."

Karigan laughed; she couldn't help it. His response was delivered so smoothly, and with such an air of honest happiness, that she couldn't resist.

"I'm not going far," she informed him, even as she grasped his warm hand and allowed him to take hold of her elbow as they moved toward the door.

"Then perhaps I will get lost," Somial answered, and actually winked at her.

Karigan did not notice the scathing look Zachary shot at their backs as they exited, or the way Laren balled her hand into a fist to combat a sudden wave of jealousy.


	7. Chapter 7

The wind was tangling its fingers in Karigan's hair as she watched Blue Bird roll happily in the grass. She couldn't begrudge the Captain's horse; it was a beautiful day and the sun was pleasantly warm against her back as she leaned against the fence. Karigan's leg wasn't bothering her as much today, and her only company was a horse that had already forgotten she was there at all. The paddock was peaceful, and a nice change from the hustle and bustle that was usual within the walls of the castle. Karigan felt relaxed for the first time since she'd woken up in the mending wing.

After a few minutes of watching the animal's antics, Karigan's eyes cut to the ruins of the old Rider barracks. Little more than ash occupied the space that had once been her home, and seeing it made Karigan think of Mara; how close she'd come to not making it out of the fire. Those were things that Karigan didn't want to think about today, though, so she pushed them away. She'd already lost too many friends, and didn't want to brood over how close she'd come to losing another one.

What Karigan really wanted to do was saddle up and head out for a ride. She longed to see Condor again, and hoped that Alton was taking good care of her gangly mount. Karigan knew that Captain Mapstone had sent a messenger to the D'Yer Wall to let the Riders there know that Karigan was safe, and to order the return of her horse. Karigan had offered to deliver the message, even though she'd known that the Captain would refuse. She knew it was for the best – Karigan doubted she could mount, let alone keep her seat with her injured leg – but her primal desire to escape the castle had made her volunteer anyway. Being so close to the King, and his new Queen, was taxing for Karigan; every time she saw Zachary, even from a distance, her mind immediately recalled the way she'd clung to and kissed him. Her relationship with Estora was so convoluted that it made Karigan's head hurt to think about it, so she made an effort not to.

Instead, Karigan made every effort to stay away from the royal couple. She spent a lot of time in the Rider wing with Mara and Fastion, who seemed to split his time between the Riders and the royals. Lately it seemed to Karigan that if the Weapon wasn't guarding the king, then he was guarding her; all of her attempts to persuade him that she didn't need a bodyguard fell on deaf ears. Once or twice she had wondered if the king had ordered Fastion to guard her, but every time Karigan gathered up the courage to ask, something happened to make her change her mind.

Her current solitude was, therefore, hard won and much appreciated. Fastion was busy guarding the king for the afternoon, and though Mara had questioned where she was running off to, the other woman had softened visibly when Karigan had explained that she needed to spend time with some of their four legged friends. Karigan had encountered Captain Mapstone in the corridor outside the Great Hall and had offered to look after Blue Bird for her, which the Captain had agreed to.

"It's good to see you outside."

Startled, Karigan turned to see Lynx standing on the other side of the fence, halter rope in one hand. Owl wasn't paying attention to either of the humans; the horse's attention was fixed on Blue Bird, who had stopped grazing long enough to whicker in greeting.

"Oh!" Karigan exclaimed, realizing that she was standing in front of the pasture gate. "Sorry."

She only limped a little as she stepped further down the fence, and for a moment Karigan contemplated trying to pull herself up to sit on the rails as she usually did. She changed her mind when it occurred to her that even if she could get up there, she'd never be able to get down. Stupid injury, Karigan thought bitterly.

Lynx led Owl into the paddock and then slipped the halter off of him, smiling indulgently as his equine friend kicked up his heels and loped off to join Blue Bird.

"You look better," Lynx said as he joined Karigan against the fence.

"Thanks."

They fell into a comfortable silence. Before the expedition into Blackveil, Lynx had unnerved Karigan as much as he'd intrigued her; he was always so quiet and withdrawn. Now, his silence was soothing and, even though they didn't talk about it, it was nice to spend time with someone who had been with her in Blackveil. Karigan knew that Lynx would eventually return to his solitary life in the woods and that a long time might pass before she saw him again, but there would never be a time when she didn't consider him a good friend; they had been through much together, and that was not a bond that would not be easily broken.

"I hope Condor is alright," Karigan said eventually.

"I'm sure Alton is taking good care of him." Lynx glanced away from the horses and at Karigan. "You must miss him."

Karigan smiled. "I do." She paused then; afraid to ask her next question, but determined to do so anyway. "Lynx, when you went to get Owl, did you see him? Condor?"

Lynx sighed quietly. He could hear the hopeful note in Karigan's voice and wished that he could reassure her. The Rider had purposefully not told his friend that Owl was here, because he had known that she would ask after Condor, and he didn't want to tell her that there was no reassurance he could give.

"I didn't see anyone, Karigan. I didn't go back for Owl; I found him on the Wanda Plains. Well, he found me, I guess. He must have snapped his lead line."

Karigan's heart constricted sharply. Messenger horses were notoriously sensitive and attuned to their riders, and she couldn't help but wonder what sort of state Owl had been in to snap his line and escape Alton's camp. Green Rider mounts were well behaved and loyal, sometimes to a fault, and yet Owl had escaped the camp to look for Lynx on the Plains.

What about Condor, she wondered. Mara had told Karigan that she had been mostly dead when they'd found her in the tombs; could Condor have known that somehow? Karigan sincerely hoped that her equine partner hadn't escaped to look for her as well. Her thoughts turned then to Yates' Phoebe, and her heart dropped into her stomach as she tried not to wonder if the sweet mare had known when her Rider passed. Karigan could remember only too clearly how upset Crane had been when Groundmites had killed Ereal. She didn't want to picture Phoebe in the same situation.

Lynx placed a wide hand on Karigan's forearm and gave it a gentle squeeze. "I'm sure that Condor is fine, Karigan, and that you'll be reunited with him soon."

"Yeah. I'm sure you're right. He's too stubborn not to be okay."

"Hello," a new voice called then.

In unison, Karigan and Lynx looked up to find an Eletian smiling at them from a few feet away. Though the Eletians had been camped out on the castle grounds for some days now, it was odd to see one of them outside their ring of tents, especially alone. Still, Karigan thought that she knew who it was, and when she lifted a hand to shield her eyes from the glare of the sun she couldn't resist a small smile. Her hunch was right: Somial looked perfectly at ease as he waited for them to answer.

"Hello," Karigan replied, lowering her hand. She took a step toward him, then blinked and shook her head when the Eletian appeared on the other side of the fence in front of her.

"Am I interrupting?" Somial queried.

"Not at all."

"I've just been giving myself a tour of the grounds. Perhaps, if you're feeling up to it, you'd like to join me?"

Somial glanced between Karigan and Lynx as he offered the invitation. Lynx had only spoken to Somial twice before, and though he had been genial on both occasions and sincere when he'd expressed his pleasure that Lynx had survived the expedition, the Rider knew that Karigan was the one Somial really wished to speak with.

"If you'd like to go, Karigan, I'll stay here and look after the horses," Lynx informed her.

Karigan was torn. She enjoyed spending time with Somial, but she had told the Captain that she would take care of Blue Bird, and leaving would feel like shirking her duties. Although she didn't really consider looking after horses a duty, even if the horse in question wasn't hers. "Are you sure?"

Lynx nodded. "Of course. Just try not to wear yourself out."

In an unexpected surge of emotion, Karigan pulled herself forward and gave Lynx a warm, if slightly awkward hug. "Thanks, Lynx."

Somial held the gate open for her as Karigan slipped out of the paddock. Her leg was stiff from standing, so the first few paces they walked were slow and halting. Somial didn't mind; he smiled peacefully and took in his surroundings as Karigan led them past the pile of ash and rubble that was the old Rider barracks.

"How are you today, Karigan?"

Karigan had insisted that Somial address her by her first name rather than her title as Rider G'ladheon, but she was still unaccustomed to the sound of it. Aside from the Eletians that had been part of the Blackveil expedition, all of Karigan's dealings with them had been of a more formal bent, and even a little tense on occasion; it was strange to hear such a familiar form of address from a man who was mostly a stranger. A kind and pleasant stranger, but a stranger all the same.

"Well, for the most part. And you?"

"Curious," Somial replied, grinning sidelong at her. "Which is entirely more pleasant to me than being well."

Karigan huffed out a chuckle. Somial's open and well-developed curiosity was amusing to her, and not just because it made him seem more relatable. In some ways, he reminded her of a teenager who simultaneously knew everything and wanted to learn more.

"And your double vision?" he continued, clipping his strides to keep pace with her. "You did not seem overly bothered by it just now, with Rider Lynx."

"I'm getting used to it. And it's easier with Lynx. I see two of him, but for the most part they're pretty much the same." In fact, it was easy for Karigan to tell the real Lynx from the other Lynx: the real one smiled less.

"I am glad to hear that. And your leg? If you get tired, you must stop me immediately."

"Oh, don't worry," Karigan assured him. "You'll know as soon as I do." She didn't mention that it was because her leg was likely to simply give out on her if she over taxed it.

They wandered over the grounds with little direction, only occasionally adjusting their course when Somial expressed the desire to see something in particular. The afternoon stayed pleasantly warm and Karigan greeted a few people that she knew as they passed by on their business. Somial watched the interactions quietly and drew little attention to himself, although the presence of an Eletian proved hard to overlook.

Karigan didn't realize that they had reached the training arenas until she heard the sharp bark of Arms Master Drent's voice, and by then it was too late. She tried to discreetly steer them away before she was noticed, and failed.

"Girl!" Drent hollered, pointing a finger at her from where he stood in one of the practice rings.

Karigan tried not to cringe. "Good …"

"Don't bother me with platitudes, girl! How much longer are you going to nurse that wound? All your training is useless if you're going to keep babying that leg. You have one week from tomorrow. If I don't see you by ten hour, don't bother coming back."

She clenched her jaw and tried not to flush in anger. "Yes, Master Drent."

Drent grunted in response and waved her away. Karigan took a few deep breaths as she led them away from the practice rings and out of his sight.

"Such a pleasant man," Somial remarked dryly. "Is he like that with everyone?"

"Yeah. You get used to it."

"I believe I'll take your word for it."

They headed back toward the castle. Karigan was beginning to feel the strain of their walk in the way her leg muscles were pulling and twitching every so often. The pace she had set before had been more of a leisurely sort of stroll; as they cut across the grass, she dropped into more of a shuffle.

"You are tired," Somial chided.

"I'm fine."

"Perhaps we should stop for a while."

"I can make it," Karigan responded stubbornly.

Somial realigned himself closer to her side and held his arm out for her, arching an eyebrow in silent argument when she looked ready to protest. With a tiny sigh, Karigan hooked her hand over the crook of his elbow and begrudgingly leaned some of her weight into him.

They made small talk as they walked. Somial told her about their party's almost mad desire to get their hands on another large store of Master Guntler's Dragon Droppings, and insisted that no one was more desirous than himself. Karigan outright laughed when he leaned in to her side to stage whisper that he had even heard Prince Jametari threatening to lead a charge to the sweets shop himself.

As they entered the castle, Somial positioned them so that Karigan was between him and the wall and out of the path of passers-by, who were largely too busy to pay much attention to their surroundings and likely to jostle her. Though she refused to admit it, the Eletian could tell that his companion was tiring quickly, and that their walk had been more strenuous for her than she'd let on; Karigan's face was almost a full shade paler than normal.

There was a long bench tucked against the wall a few feet in front of them. Karigan had just considered asking Somial to stop for a bit when he angled them toward the bench, so she gave him a grateful smile and then allowed him to help her sit down.

"Well, I almost made it," Karigan joked dryly.

"Don't be upset." Somial was the picture of easy cheer. "We covered much ground this afternoon. Your leg is healing nicely."

"Slowly, you mean."

"Healing always takes longer than we wish it did."

"Rider G'ladheon?"

Karigan and Somial glanced up in unison. Tomas, the young Green Foot runner, looked so relieved to see her that Karigan's stomach gave an involuntary somersault.

"I've been looking for you everywhere!" Tomas exclaimed, dodging the people bustling through the corridor to stand in front of her. "Everyone's looking for you."

"What? Why?" Karigan prayed that everything was okay. She didn't think she could handle another crisis so soon after the last one.

"Well, not everyone," Tomas corrected himself. "The king requested your presence in the Great Hall."

"Is everything okay? Did someone get hurt?" Karigan was already struggling back to her feet, assisted by Somial's hand wrapped firmly around her elbow.

"No, everyone's fine." Tomas glanced nervously at Somial, as if there was something else he wanted to say but unsure of whether or not he should.

Somial recognized the sideways glance for what it was. "It's alright, I won't tell anyone."

Karigan started toward the Great Hall. She knew the path by heart, and although her brain told her that it wasn't far, her leg was wailing that she couldn't go any farther.

"The king and queen are going to accept the alliance with the Eletians," Tomas muttered as he bobbed along beside her. "But the prince said he won't discuss anything without you there."

Karigan balked. Her gait was awkward enough; without the steadying pressure of Somial's hand, she didn't doubt that she would have fallen.

"Why?" she queried.

Tomas only shrugged and then loped off, presumably to alert Neff the herald that they were coming.

Between the adrenaline pumping through her veins and the fatigue from the walk, Karigan felt like she'd been running a race by the time she caught sight of the large doors to the Great Hall. Though they had gone slowly, her breathing was erratic when they came to a stop in front of Neff, who looked concerned to find her in such a state.

"Would you like me to wait a minute before announcing you?" Neff asked kindly.

Karigan nodded. Then, "Is it a private audience?"

Neff shook his head and glanced at Somial. "The rest of his party is inside."

She took a deep breath and held it while she counted to five, then released it in a steady sigh. Her mind was whirring busily, trying to outline every situation that she could possibly be about to step into. Karigan's best guess was that this might have something to do with the expedition into Blackveil; why else would Prince Jametari request her presence? An alliance between the Eletians and Sacoridia had nothing to do with her – not personally, anyway.

Karigan squared her shoulders and nodded at Neff, who stepped away to announce her arrival.

"Sorry," she told Somial quietly as she took a small step away from his side.

Her companion only smiled. "I understand."

Karigan willed her leg to cooperate a little longer. As tired as she was, she knew that she couldn't present herself to her king and those assembled on the arm of an Eletian, even if she was injured. There were many things about the machinations of nobles and the royal court that she didn't understand, but she did understand this: allowing Somial to help her would be construed as a show of favor to him, perhaps even a declaration of intentions that she didn't have. Karigan had already made enough blunders where the nobles of Sacor City were concerned; she didn't need to make another. Her leg would just have to hold out.

Neff announced Karigan first, and then Somial, who had just enough time to lean over and whisper, "How does he know my name?"

Karigan tried not to smile as she hissed, "It's his job." Then the heavy door in front of her was swinging open and she set her mind to making it to the end of the hall.


	8. Chapter 8

Zachary's hand curled into a fist where it lay on the arm of his throne. His fingernails dug half moons into the skin of his palm as he forced himself to keep an impassive expression plastered to his face. His eyes tracked Karigan as she made her way toward him – toward them, her gait halting and uneven. Beside him, Laren shifted minutely. Only their long years as friends allowed him to see it for the sign of worry that it was. Even across the distance that separated them, Zachary could tell that Karigan was struggling to make it to them. Keeping himself seated felt like an impossible task when his muscles were threatening to revolt and pull him to his feet and to her side.

The audience in the Great Hall was large. Zachary had intended to announce his acceptance of Prince Jametari's appeal for an alliance against the powers of Mornhavon and then, as agreed, Estora would call for a feast in honor of their new allies. Prince Jametari had surprised them all by forestalling the announcement by requesting Karigan's presence. Now, Zachary mentally cursed the presence of so many people, and nobles at that. He could neither do nor say anything to help Karigan without angering or insulting someone; he was helpless to do anything but watch her.

When Karigan finally made it to the stairs at the bottom of the dais, she felt like she was on fire from the waist down. With her eyes fixed resolutely on a spot on the floor in front of her, she started to make her bow, and was stopped.

"Please," Estora said quickly, gently. "I think we can dispense with the bowing for now." Though she sounded certain, the queen shot a glance at her husband in a silent bid for his approval.

"Of course," Zachary agreed immediately. He forced his hand open and laid his stinging palm against the cool arm of the throne.

"Thank you, Your Majesties. I apologize for my tardiness." Karigan was privately relieved that her voice sounded steady despite the nervousness she was trying to quell.

"Now, Prince Jametari, if you're ready to continue?" Zachary considered himself a patient man and a decent mediator – he had to be, considering his position and power – but it was difficult to keep a small note of displeasure from his tone as he addressed his counterpart.

If the Eletian picked up on it, he gave no indication. "Of course, King Zachary."

Estora listened as Zachary outlined the terms of the alliance that their two peoples had hashed out over the last few days. A lot of time and discussion had been dedicated to the arrangement of such an agreement. Estora divided her attention between what her husband was saying – words that she could recite in her sleep – and watching Karigan. The Green Rider hadn't moved since presenting herself, but she looked ready to collapse.

When Zachary was finished reading the terms and Prince Jametari had publicly accepted them, Estora called for a banquet to commemorate the occasion, as had been previously agreed. The king asked Karigan and the Eletians to remain, and then dismissed the court.

Estora was not surprised when Zachary's first question was for Karigan. "Rider G'ladheon, are you well?"

"Well enough, Your Majesty, thank you."

What Karigan really meant was that her leg felt like rubber and kept threatening to collapse on her. She set her jaw in determination. There was no way Karigan would allow herself to collapse, especially not in front of the people that were currently around her.

Captain Mapstone leaned toward Zachary, angling her mouth toward his ear so that her words would not be overheard.

"Perhaps a stool is in order, Your Majesty." Laren didn't have to say whom it was for.

Zachary nodded. Instead of calling for a stool, however, he invited his guests and friends to adjourn to his study once more. The king hailed a footman and ordered food and refreshments to be delivered for those assembled. The feast would not start until later that evening, and Zachary was starving. With the exception of the Eletians, who never looked anything but serene, everyone else looked as if they'd appreciate the repast as well.

Zachary and Estora led the way. Weapons materialized out of the shadows and posted up on either side of the royal couple. Finely outfitted feet had barely taken more than a dozen steps when the Great Hall resounded with an abrupt thud.

Karigan's leg had finally had enough. The Green Rider had turned to follow the small procession out of the Hall, but the moment she transferred her weight to the injured limb it buckled. She found herself quite suddenly in a heap on the polished marble floor, a furious blush heating her cheeks as she realized what had happened.

"Karigan!" Captain Mapstone moved quickly to her Rider's side, her expression openly concerned.

"Fine, I'm fine," Karigan blurted, ducking her chin in embarrassment. "My leg is just a little tired."

Captain Mapstone was perhaps the only person other than Estora to catch the angry set to Zachary's jaw, or the automatic step he took toward Karigan despite the queen's hand he held. She would have stopped him with a warning look, but found it unnecessary. Instead, the captain found herself as shocked as her fellow onlookers when none other than Prince Jametari himself leaned down to offer Karigan his hand.

"Please, Rider Galadheon, allow me to offer my assistance."

Long seconds passed in silence. Karigan could do nothing but stare at Prince Jametari with her mouth hanging open in a perfectly unladylike fashion. She couldn't possibly refuse his offer without being rude, but the very idea of the Prince of the Eletians offering to personally help her off the floor was so foreign that she couldn't immediately offer a reply.

"I … would be honored." Her words were jumbled; her tongue felt too thick for her mouth.

She took the proffered hand. His skin was warm and smooth, and he helped pull her to her feet as if she were weightless. The heat in her cheeks only intensified when he tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow, pressing it into the warmth of his side. He nodded at the assembled party, most of who were still trying to recover from the unexpectedness of it all.

Zachary recovered first, turning to once again lead them out of the audience hall.

"I apologize for overtaxing you," the Prince began quietly. Karigan had spoken with him before, but always in more formal settings. Now, engrossed in a private conversation, she was able to fully appreciate how nice his voice was. She wouldn't go so far as to call it musical, but it had a decidedly pleasurable lilt. "That was not my intention."

"It's nothing," Karigan responded. She was actually mortified at having fallen on her rear end in front of almost everyone that mattered to her in some way, but she certainly wasn't going to admit that. Definitely not in her present company, anyway.

"I meant to show my respect," he continued. "You have been a great friend to my people, as I am continually reminded."

The comment surprised her more than the wryness of his tone. Who among her Eletian friends would be so bold as to remind their Prince that Karigan was a friend? Certainly not Telagioth: he was far too stoic and mindful of the respect due his patriarch. The same was true of Ealdean. That only left Somial. In the few seconds Karigan then devoted to considering the possibility, she resolved that it could be no one else. Though they didn't know each other well, she didn't have a hard time believing that he'd be so bold.

"And I'm honored, truly," Karigan reassured him. "Only I've done nothing to warrant such respect."

Prince Jametari stopped their already glacial progress. Without releasing her hand he angled his body toward her so that he could look her full in the face. His gaze traveled pointedly to the owl feather in her hair. "That is a sentiment I cannot agree with."

She'd forgotten. Grae had been his sister, perhaps his last surviving family member for all Karigan knew, and she'd never returned from Blackveil. Prince Jametari had lost his sister to that twisted place, and Karigan was ashamed to admit that she'd forgotten about their connection.

Karigan felt compelled to say something. She doubted that the Prince of Eletians needed her reassurances, but it felt wrong to stand there with him and be silent. The problem was that she didn't know what to say. Should she speak words for the Prince, or the brother?

In the end she decided on both. "Grae was a formidable warrior," Karigan said haltingly. "But more than that, I considered her a friend. I'm sorry that I didn't get a chance to tell her so."

The mantle of responsibility that Prince Jametari wore fell away with her words. Karigan was not standing with a leader in that moment; just a brother, grieving for the loss of a sister that he had clearly loved.

"I cannot say what those words mean to me. Thank you, Karigan." He hesitated on her name.

The Rider was so anchored in the moment that she didn't realize that the shimmer that usually surrounded the Eletian Prince was absent.

Then someone cleared their throat and the memories of Grae slipped away. The grief was absent once again from Prince Jametari's countenance, replaced with a placid façade. The patriarch had returned, and so had the shimmer in her vision.

The rest of their journey to the king's study passed in silence. Karigan concentrated on making her leg do as she wished. Their stop had been long enough for the muscles to stiffen and they showed no signs of loosening. Indeed, by the time they were safely ensconced in the study Karigan's leg had cramped to the point that it took everything she had not to gasp in pain.

"You are unwell," Prince Jametari remarked.

"Karigan? You're white as a sheet!" Estora said simultaneously.

She had to make it to a chair. Collapsing once in front of her superiors was bad enough; the last thing she wanted was to give a repeat performance. "If I could just sit for a moment." Karigan worked to grind the words out through clenched teeth.

The edges of her vision dimmed, the colors bleeding to a uniform gray. Hot pulses of pain radiated out from her leg and swept through her body. Her head was swimming. She was certain she was about to fall, so she threw out her free arm in search of something to steady herself on. There was nothing but empty air to be found.

Then there were hands on her waist, and someone was gripping her. Her vision wasn't clear enough to recognize whom it was, but their hands were like vices.

All at once she heard her name, repeated over and over again in many voices. Their tones echoed in her ears. She didn't recognize all of them, but she knew in her bones that they were all trying to mark and claim her as their own. The cacophony was frightening. She wanted - needed to answer them. None of the voices were hers, but they belonged to her.

The chorus began to recede. The voices began to fade into one another in a long wail, and their impending silence frightened Karigan more than their noise ever could. She didn't know them, but she knew that she must keep them with her.

"Don't leave!" She called to her singers. "You must not leave! Stay with me. Please, fight with me." Karigan didn't know what she wanted them to fight, or why she'd chosen those words. She knew only that they were important.

The voices had tapered off into nothing more than a whisper. The last thing Karigan was aware of was that they were no longer saying her name, and she didn't recognize what word they had replaced it with.

Now, their voices were nothing but the sound of fear.


	9. Chapter 9

Karigan groaned. Her head and leg throbbed in time to the beat of her heart. Her mouth felt as though it had been filled to the brim with sawdust; she coughed, and the sound was raspy and dry.

Then she remembered the voices.

"Why does this keep happening to me?" she ground out.

"Why, indeed?"

Her eyes snapped open. The embarrassment Karigan felt was so acute as to be painful. All at once she was aware of who surrounded her and where she was, and words weren't enough to express her mortification.

"I'm sorry," she said.

She was on the ground. Again. Prince Jametari was above her, his face calm and impassive, but his sharp eyes surveyed her face. Behind him, Karigan realized that every face she could see was full of … fear?

"What …?" she started to say, and then immediately rolled onto her side to cough until her lungs threatened to seize up.

Footsteps sounded out around her. Karigan closed her eyes and pressed her cheek into the cool floor without a single thought for who might be around or how undignified she might look. Let them judge her if they wished.

A cold, damp cloth was pressed to her forehead. Had she dozed?

When she opened her eyes again, Prince Jametari had moved only far enough to allow the Captain and King closer. Captain Mapstone was the one pressing the cloth to her head, but strangely it was the King who had his fingers pressed against her neck.

Was he checking her pulse?

"I'm fine," Karigan promised.

"Obviously not," King Zachary replied tersely.

Karigan blinked. She had to push him away. Why was he here kneeling over her when he should have been standing with Estora? This would look bad – probably did look bad to the new Queen, who might take any manner of meaning from this incident.

Then Karigan blinked again. Captain Mapstone was still in front of her with the cloth pressed to her forehead, but Zachary was no longer there. Instead, he was standing taut and tightly coiled behind the Captain, his distress only slightly less palpable than his concern.

Had he been in front of her at all, or had she imagined it?

"You pushed yourself too hard," the Captain chided her. "Can you stand?"

Karigan nodded, though she wasn't entirely confident that she could. The Captain helped her up slowly. Still, Karigan had to stand and breathe deeply for long moments before she could attempt even a single step.

She was being watched. Karigan couldn't blame them for their attention, since she was apparently prone to collapsing at the slightest provocation, but their wariness unnerved her. She didn't want them to pity her, or think her weak: she would overcome whatever this was, just as she had everything else.

The procession moved slowly to the King's study. Karigan leaned heavily against Captain Mapstone and was aware of Prince Jametari's presence at her other side. She wanted to address them, but had no idea what to say.

Once inside the study, Karigan lowered herself into the first chair she saw. The desk was covered in an impressive spread of food, but whatever appetite she'd had was gone. Somial appeared in front of her with a large cup of water, which Karigan took gratefully and proceeded to drain within seconds.

"What happened?" King Zachary's voice was tense, but not unkind. Karigan raised her eyes to his face and blinked owlishly. The two versions of him that she saw were hard to differentiate this time. They both looked so strained, so worried and …

Karigan dismissed the one that was too openly loving. That was perhaps the truest one, but not the realest: no, here in this room surrounded by would-be allies and a Queen that was not Karigan, Zachary would never allow his heart to shine so blindingly through his expression.

"I don't know." Karigan licked her lips. "My leg cramped and then …" She didn't want to mention the voices, especially in front of the Eletians.

Which, seconds later, proved to be a moot point.

"There were voices," Ealdean said quietly. "Hundreds of them, crying your name."

Karigan sighed. Okay, so there was no hiding that. "I know."

"There was singing as well," Telagioth added. "At first."

"An old song, I think," Somial mused.

"I don't know how they knew my name." Karigan tried to remember the voices and what they'd wanted from her, but all she could recall was how loud their terror had been, and how desperate she'd been to keep them with her.

She had to voice the sinking fear that had been gripping her as of late. It wasn't fair to keep it to herself when it could potentially put everyone she cared about – and the kingdom – at risk.

"What if," she started slowly, "what if there's something wrong with me?"

"What do you mean?" Captain Mapstone asked.

There were so many possibilities, so many ways that something could have gone wrong somewhere in Blackveil … Karigan had been hunted by dark forces for so long now that it was difficult to know which one might have finally sunk its claws into her.

"In Argenthyne …" it was still difficult to talk about it, to remember all that had happened and been lost in that cursed forest. "Mornhavon … was there, with me. There was something wrong with that looking mask, and when it cut into me maybe some part of it was left behind. Or maybe Mornhavon himself got to me somehow."

"Karigan," Estora started. "What you're implying …"

"What if I'm a threat?" Karigan blurted. "What if he did something to me? I haven't been the same since you found me, and whatever it is it's getting worse. I see things that aren't there, and now I hear voices that aren't there."

"A result of the wild magic," Zachary said with dismissive coldness. "Nothing more.

"But what if …"

"You're not a threat, Karigan," Captain Mapstone interrupted.

"Is it possible though that she is suffering from something in that mask?" Estora asked.

Their rising voices and tempers were coming to the forefront as they all tried to talk at once, offering and refuting ideas and possibilities so fast that they were talking over each other. Until a cool, calm voice cut across all of them.

"It's possible that Karigan is dying."

The silence that enveloped the study was eerie. Every gaze in the room turned to fix on Prince Jametari, who stood relaxed and impassive several feet from the rest of them.

"That's ridiculous," Zachary bit out.

"Given what she's been through, I'd disagree. Mornhavon was a monster, and if that mask you spoke of was in his possession there's no telling what he might have done to it. More than that, Laurelyn's Gift has never been passed to a human. Wielding it comes with its own risks; her body was not meant to sustain …"

"She's not dying."

"She can hear you, you know," Karigan tried to interject.

"I would rather not believe so either, Your Majesty, but the evidence to the contrary …"

Zachary cracked a fist against the edge of his desk with enough force that it nearly sounded like bones cracking. "Karigan is not dying!"

In the perfect silence that followed the king's proclamation, no one missed the sharp breath and sudden shudder that moved through Laren. The look she shot at her friend and king was unreadable.

It was Karigan who broke the stalemate. "Fastion said when they found me, I was asking for Westrion." Her voice was quiet but steady. She saw Zachary turn away from her – from them – but turned her attention to the Prince. "If I was … if I am dying, do you have any idea how much longer I might have?"

To her surprise, Telagioth made a disgusted face and simply left the room. Ealdean gave her a sympathetic look, as if to apologize for his counterpart's departure, and then willed himself back to stillness behind his prince.

"It's hard to say, Galadheon. And your King is correct to disbelieve – we don't know for certain that is what's happening."

"But if it is …"

"Enough." Zachary's voice was a razor blade. He did not turn to face them. "Everyone out."

Karigan swallowed thickly. She honestly didn't know if her body would tolerate movement at this point.

"Rider G'ladheon will stay."

"Your Majesty," Laren started.

"Out."

Karigan did not have a hard time deciphering the concerned look on her Captain's face as she followed everyone else out of the room. Though Karigan tried not to look, Estora's expression of resigned concern mirrored Laren's. Karigan wondered if it wasn't concern of a different nature, though.

When the room had emptied and the door to the study was once again closed, Karigan dared fix her attention on Zachary. He had not moved from the spot where he stood leaning over the desk, all of his weight balanced on palms flat against the desktop. His shoulders were so straight and rigid that hers ached in sympathy.

Zachary made no move to speak. He made no move at all, in fact; simply stood, still and lifeless as a stone. Was this what Estora saw when the doors closed, and the king's mantle fell, and Zachary was free to just be himself? Was this weight and stress always there, hidden and waiting behind Zachary's carefully maintained façade?

Karigan wanted to console him, wished fervently that she could wrap him in her arms and give him a safe place to rest for a moment, and knew that she could not. He bore so much for her – for the kingdom, with none the wiser for all that it cost him.

If she was dying …

Estora was the queen, coined and crowned, just as the kingdom needed. Her position as monarch was assured.

And if Karigan really was dying …

Her body ignored her first feeble commands to move, but with a great force of will Karigan managed to get to her feet. Her bad leg spasmed in pain and wobbled. Karigan ignored it. With careful deliberation and slow steps, she managed to carry herself across the room to Zachary. This close to him she could hear what she couldn't before: the dutifully measured beats of counted breaths. It was an exercise that Drent insisted on teaching them in initiate training. Mind over matter, the arms master was always barking at them. Breathe through the pain; focus until everything else fades away.

Karigan's hand only shook a little when she reached out and laid it gently on the spot just below his right shoulder blade. Zachary's muscles were wound so tightly beneath her hand Karigan thought he might snap.

Zachary's voice was quiet when he spoke. "When Lynx told me what happened in Blackveil, and you didn't return, I thought I'd sent you in there to die." A breath held – one, two, three, four – and released. "It seems now I might have done just that."

"You did what you had to. If I am dying, it's not for anything that you've done."

His hand flexed against the desk. It was the one he'd hit the desk with earlier. Even now, Karigan could see the bruise blossoming along the back edge of his hand and reaching up his pinky.

"I tire of always doing what I must," Zachary nearly whispered. His head dipped lower between his shoulders.

This was as close as Karigan should get. Already this was dangerous, her toes too close to the line in the sand that she'd drawn to separate them. He was married, and she would be no one's mistress. But here, alone in this moment and facing all that had been done to and for them…

Karigan exerted just a touch of pressure against his back with her hand. So small as to be nearly imperceptible, but it finally made him raise his head and turn toward her at last. He looked wretched. There was no stately façade between them now, no King's mask or royal mandate despite his regal clothes. It was just them, Karigan and Zachary, overwhelmed by their circumstances.

Karigan had barely moved her arms before Zachary was stepping into them. He was taller than she was, but he lowered his head to her shoulder and buried his face in her hair.

They stood that way for long minutes. Karigan closed her eyes and held him, wondered if anyone had offered him such comfort since childhood, and refused to acknowledge that her body was simply too tired to let them remain this way much longer.

Just as tiny tremors started in her leg, Zachary sighed deeply into her hair. He pulled himself away from her just enough to study her face, still too pale and drawn. Her eyes, changed and remarkable as they were, still glittered with intelligence and life. He couldn't stand to think of them closed forever.

His hands drifted up to cradle her face. Karigan caught her breath but didn't try to move away.

"You can't die."

Her look was soft but chastising. "Everyone dies, Zachary."

"Not you. Not yet."

Zachary kissed her. He shouldn't have – it was wrong, and she would be angry with him – but resisting was impossible. Karigan was right there, had braved her exhaustion and over taxed body to comfort him in the face of something that should have scared the Five Hells out of her … his heart would not be denied a moment longer.

Just a tender, heartfelt press of the lips he promised himself, and then Karigan surprised them both by kissing him in return. For the span of a few, fleeting heartbeats all that Zachary wanted was in his hands.

Then Karigan's lips parted beneath his own with a gasp, and he became aware of the way she was shaking, and he instantly cursed himself.

Zachary touched his forehead to hers quickly. "You have to sit," he said. "I'm sorry, I should have known."

"I don't think I can move," Karigan muttered. She had gone so far past over doing it that she genuinely feared she might not be able to get out of bed for days.

Zachary grabbed the chair she'd been sitting in previously and moved it behind her with startling speed. Karigan took his proffered hand to sit; her legs did not bend so much as they collapsed, and she plopped unceremoniously into the chair.

The shaking did not stop.

"What's wrong?" Zachary asked. The fear had come back into his eyes.

"I think I need to lay down."

"Donal!"

Karigan would have startled if she had the energy. She had forgotten in the moment that Zachary was never truly alone, and the blush that rose to her cheeks was involuntary and unavoidable.

"Get her to the mending wing," Zachary commanded his weapon.

"No," Karigan countered, "not there. Not again. My room." When Zachary looked ready to argue she said, softer, "please."

"Fine. I will …"

"No," she cut him off. Whatever he was going to say – whatever they had shared moments ago – could not be. "We are who we've always been, Your Majesty."

Karigan knew the honorific had the intended effect when Zachary's face fell, and he shuttered his eyes. He looked careworn again, less tense but just as weighed down as he had when he'd stood at his desk.

"Karigan."

When he said nothing else, she spoke. "We do what we must."

She hoped he knew that she was tired of it, too.

"I won't give up." It wasn't a promise, but a statement of fact.

Karigan didn't know what exactly he was referring to, but it didn't matter. "I know."

Donal carried her the back way to her room, through corridors open only to Weapons, and Karigan didn't know if it was to preserve her dignity or her safety.

"Donal," she started when he was depositing her in her bed. She didn't know how to say what was on her mind: to apologize for what she'd done, for what he'd seen …

Donal forestalled her with a raised hand. "Not necessary. Someone will be posted outside your door if you need anything."

Karigan was too tired to protest the way she wanted to; instead, she simply laid her down on her pillow, and closed her eyes.

She woke again two days later.

 


	10. Chapter 10

The first thing Karigan realized upon waking was that she was not in the right place. She blinked and reached up a hand to rub the sleep from her eyes, but still couldn’t make sense of what she was seeing. Instead of her familiar wardrobe and desk, she saw a fireplace with the amber glow of a dying fire. She was in bed but knew that it wasn’t her bed. The blankets and trappings were all wrong. Even the smell was different: instead of horses and pine, and the other familiar scents of Rider Barracks, she smelled … well, she couldn’t quite place it. It was familiar enough to be comforting, but not easily identified.

Karigan sat up. “Now what?” she whispered acerbically.

The shuffle of feet drew her attention to a doorway on her left. She was sluggish – mentally and physically – and had barely entertained the idea that she should prepare herself for anything when a man appeared in the doorway.

Karigan’s mouth fell open. It was Zachary, and he leaned his shoulder against the doorway with more casualness than she’d probably ever seen from him.

“I had about the same reaction, I assure you.”

“You … I … Your Majesty?”

The smile that had graced his lips vanished at the use of his title. His expression turned serious and he momentarily dipped his head, then gave a slight nod as if to himself.

“That answers my question, then.”

“What question?” Karigan was so lost.

Zachary moved further into the room. There was a desk in the opposite corner that she hadn’t noticed at first, but Zachary retrieved the chair and pulled it closer to the bed. He sat close enough that Karigan could make out the finer details of his face, but far enough away to be decorous.

“First, know that you’re safe.” He stumbled over the word safe. Another word had been there first, Karigan surmised, and he changed it at the last minute.

Her heart rate jumped dramatically. This wasn’t just a case of passing out in the wrong place. Something was wrong. Karigan shuffled her legs under the blanket and drew them to her, suddenly unable to bear being in the vulnerable position she’d woken in. Her bad leg wouldn’t let her get far, she knew, but at least now she was ready to flee.

“Karigan.”

She drew her gaze back to her monarch. Only, close as he was now, Karigan could see that he wasn’t quite her monarch. There were fine lines around his eyes and mouth that shouldn’t be there, and a scar above his eyebrow that she knew for a fact didn’t belong. This was Zachary, but not the Zachary she’d just been with; he was older by at least a few years.

Zachary laid a warm – real – hand on her leg just above her knee. “Don’t panic,” he told her softly. “You’ve travelled, I think.”

“How?” Karigan automatically reached for the spot where her brooch normally sat, but there was no answering tingle of cold metal. She wasn’t wearing her brooch. She couldn’t travel without her brooch.

“I don’t know, exactly,” he admitted. “We’ve never figured it out for certain.”

“But … you’re real.” Her mind was spinning out of control trying to piece everything together. This just wasn’t possible. She’d travelled before, yes, but she’d always been incorporeal in the other time, unable to interact with the people or environment around her. She’d always been relegated to the role of observer.

But Zachary’s hand was still on her knee, and though it was low she could feel the warmth of the fire and the scratch of the bed sheets beneath her. If she had travelled, none of this should be possible. Karigan glanced around the room again: everything about it was corporeal. There was no ghostly tinge of gray like there should have been. She could hear and smell and see everything clearly.

Including a familiar looking hairbrush perched haphazardly on the edge of the desk, and a silver fillet she knew well, and Condor’s leather bridle but without the reins.

Panicked, Karigan pushed herself off the bed without concern for Zachary. She started for the desk and then stopped when there was no pain in her bad leg. The breath started to freeze in her lungs.

“This is real,” she whispered anxiously. “It shouldn’t be real, it’s never real. I … where in all the hells am I?”

Zachary stood and held up his hands as though he were approaching a wild animal. His expression was open and sincere, and he didn’t seem at all frightened of her growing panic. He approached slowly.

“You’re home,” he told her bluntly. “Though you may not know it as such, yet. Like I said, I think you’ve travelled.”

“I can’t travel without my brooch.”

“That’s not entirely true.” He was so calm and sure of what he was saying. “We’re still not sure how it works, but we think it has something to do with Laurelyn’s Gift.”

Karigan’s brain stuck on his use of we. Was it the royal we? Was he referring to a group of them that had been trying to puzzle it out – maybe him and the Captain, or the three of them together?

She shoved the thought aside and latched on to the more important one: he knew of the Gift.

“How far ahead have I come?”

Zachary studied her closely. There was a familiarity in it that made Karigan’s stomach flop, a careful and thoughtful turn of his countenance that was too personal to be wholly appropriate. At least, appropriate for how she remembered them being. But then, this room was full of their things: not just hers, but his as well. She knew that silver fillet on the desk – he wore it every day.

“A few years, probably,” he finally answered. Unexpectedly, he smiled softly.

“What?” she demanded.

He shook his head. “Your hair is different, is all.”

Karigan took a deep breath. If Zachary was to be believed – and even here, in such an impossible place, Karigan knew in her heart that she both believed and trusted him – then she could manage this. She had to figure out how she’d ended up here and how to get back. The brooch had always had some way of returning her, so the Gift must as well.

Except with the brooch, travelling had never had such an air of … permanence. Nothing had ever been this real.

Karigan pushed that thought away, too.

She forced herself to focus on the situation at hand. Zachary was still standing just away from her, his hands now relaxed at his sides. He didn’t seem surprised to see her here, even the wrong her. In fact, he appeared … sad, maybe, or …

Karigan realized with a jolt that he wanted to come to her. She could see the signs, not so different from the ones that she was getting better at noticing in her Zachary: the carefully reserved expression and falsely relaxed posture, the yearning in his eyes, the way he stood slightly leaning in her direction; she had seen these before.

He had been so relieved and happy to see her in those first moments he’d stood in the doorway.

Karigan glanced quickly at the room again. She didn’t recognize it, but the stone walls and the furniture, though plusher than she was used to, were easy to place. They were somewhere in the palace.  

"You said I was home,” she stated softly. “This is … our home?”

Zachary paused. “Yes.” A simple answer that gave nothing away.

Karigan couldn’t help herself. “But how? Estora …”

All at once, Zachary’s expression closed, and he turned away from her. She knew the heaviness that settled over him. It was the same heaviness he’d labored under in the study, the same weight that Karigan sometimes glimpsed in moments when Zachary forgot to shield himself from her.

She was not the Karigan he’d been hoping to see.

Fear gripped her.

“Yo … Zachary, where am I? The me you were hoping to see, where am I now?”

A tired sigh. “I don’t know.”

“You thought it was me, so this must be happening to her too. Are we … are we stuck in some sort of travelling loop? Has this happened before?”

He finally turned back to her. He was weary, and the lines in his face stood out more; there was no gray in his hair yet, but Karigan thought maybe she was more than a few years in the future. A decade into her future, maybe, or a possible future.

A possible future made more sense. Prince Jametari had said himself that time wasn’t linear, so neither was the Gift. This could be a future for her without actually being _hers_.

How could it be hers, when her Zachary was already married to Estora?

Her heart had started to ache dully within her chest. Of all the places to end up, why had she been brought to one so cruel?

“As I said, we’re not sure how this is happening. I can see you sometimes – though I think now it’s you I’m seeing, and not her. Sometimes I can touch you for just a moment, and then you’re gone.”

Karigan thought of that moment in the throne room, when the Captain had a held a cloth to her head and Zachary had been checking her pulse, only to blink and find that he wasn’t actually there. Had that been this Zachary?

“Sometimes it’s her though.”

The anguish of it squeezed at Karigan. Zachary was sad, sadder than Karigan had openly seen him even, and clearly lonely. What must it be like to love someone that wasn’t there, couldn’t be there despite how badly they both wanted it? What anguish, to get only moments with each other that never seemed to last.

Karigan laughed. The sound was harsh and dry, something caught between a sob and chuckle. Tears had sprung to her eyes, and she glanced at the ceiling in an attempt to ward them off.

“Karigan?”

“Even.” She had to swallow thickly to push the rest of the words out. “Even here we can’t be together.”

Footfalls drew her gaze downward again. Zachary had approached, but he stopped just short of being able to reach her.

“Moments,” she continued. “Is that all we’ll ever get? What kind of future is that? What kind of _life_ is that?”

She felt the tear that tracked down her cheek. Estora, time walking, her common birth … was there no end to the obstacles in their way?

Did she need yet another sign?

“This can never be,” Karigan said. “How many more signs do we need? We are meant to be apart, in every time. There is no future for us.”

Zachary crossed the small distance that separated them and crushed her to him. He was real and solid against her, no ghostly apparition or projection, and he smelled just as he had earlier in the study. Karigan thought to pull away from him, but instead she tucked her forehead into his shoulder and inhaled another sob.

Zachary had one hand tightly banded around her waist, and the other cradled the back of her head through her hair.“Don’t say that,” he whispered. “There is a future for us, Kari, a beautiful future full of joy and love. I can’t tell you more – I shouldn’t be telling you this, you’ll be so mad at me. You told me explicitly not to give anything away.”

Despite herself, Karigan laughed into his shirt. Yes, that did sound like something she’d tell him.

“I know it’s hard, and it doesn’t make sense right now. But don’t give up, okay?”

Karigan’s arms tightened around him. He smelled just like he should, and he was simultaneously her Zachary and not. Was she in her future, or just a possible future that she’d lost somewhere along the way?

If she was dying in her time, the way Prince Jametari thought, then this couldn’t be her future – or her timeline. Maybe instead of jumping forward and back like the brooch allowed, the Gift sent her sideways through time.

“I can only surmise that if I’m there, wherever you are, then there’s something in our way. Yeah?”

Karigan huffed. “Several somethings.”

“Then I want you to take this back with you, okay? Promise me you’ll remember, no matter what?”

“Yes.”

Zachary pulled away from her just enough to see her face. The hand that had been against her head moved to cup her cheek, and he gazed at her in earnest for long seconds. “You tell me all the time that we are who we’ve always been, and I’ve always been someone that loves you, Karigan. Wherever or whenever we are, that never changes. Do you hear me? Never.”

 Karigan’s mouth fell open. _We are who we’ve always been, Your Majesty_. She had only just said that to him, and now he was parroting those words back to her.

“But … I just said that to you. I mean, my you. The other you.”

He smiled. “Like I said, you tell me all the time.”

A warning tingle shot down Karigan’s spine. It wasn’t the same tugging sensation that the brooch gave her, but she realized it meant the same thing when the edges of the room started to blur.

“Our time is up.” It hurt to say, but she wanted to warn him.

“I know.”

Already she could feel the solidity of him fading. His arm around her waist had gone from iron to gossamer, and instead of his scent Karigan could smell … nothing.

“Karigan?”

She could hear him as if he was speaking from a great distance, and there was an echo to it that had her straining to understand.

“I’d rather have a handful of moments with you than a lifetime with someone else.”

 

* * *

 

Karigan woke with a gasp.

The familiar gray stone and dark wood beams of the castle ceiling was above her. She barely had time to blink before her stomach heaved dangerously; a sharp, painful twinge shot up her bad leg.

“Karigan, thank the gods.”

She had just a second to process that Mara was perched next to her on the bed before she pitched to the side and emptied the non-existent contents of her stomach.

Mara put a cool hand against her forehead and then swept her hair back behind her shoulders.

“Gods, I’m sorry,” Karigan croaked.

“Don’t be,” Mara reassured her. “We’re just glad you’re awake.”

“How long was I asleep?”

“Two days, though I’m not sure I’d call it sleeping. We tried to wake you that first day, but even Ben couldn’t get you to stir. You’ve had a fever nearly the whole time.”

That wasn’t hard to believe when she felt so terrible now. “I have to clean this up.”

“Nice try. I’ll take care of it. You’re not to get out of this bed any time soon, understand?”

“Mara.”

“I mean it, Karigan.”

Karigan dropped back against her pillow, too exhausted to argue. She certainly didn’t feel like she’d been sleeping for two days. She felt more like she’d been riding through a winter storm for weeks on end or beaten to a pulp in Master Drent’s training arena.

“Weapon!”

Mara’s call startled her. Karigan rolled her head to the side to see the door open and fill with Willis’s imposing presence. He glanced quickly from Mara to Karigan and back, but his expression gave nothing away.

“Rider?”

“Sorry, I forgot your name again.”

“Willis,” Karigan supplied. She offered him a small smile, which he returned – barely.

“I’m going to assume that your orders are to stay with Karigan, yes?” When the Weapon didn’t answer, Mara nodded decisively. “Right. I need to find a runner and something to clean this mess. While I’m gone, no one is to bother Karigan unless it’s Ben, the Captain, or the King himself. Understood?”

“I feel obligated to tell you, Rider, that I am under no compunction to follow anyone’s orders outside the King’s.”

“And since we both know that he’d tell you to do much the same, we’ll just pretend that I’m not the one who said it.”

Karigan laughed, but the sound was small and dry. She needed water, and though her stomach was still unsettled she was aware suddenly of being starving. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can, Karigan.” Mara slid off her bed and moved to her desk, where she poured a class of water from a pitcher that Karigan hadn’t noticed. “Try not to doze off, okay?”

“I’ll do my best,” Karigan mumbled.

Despite that, as soon as the door closed and Karigan was alone she closed her eyes. A headache was developing between her eyes. She focused on taking measured breaths in through her nose, but she could smell the sick at the edge of her bed and had to fight back a wave of nausea. Had she really been out for two days? It had seemed so much shorter than that, just a few moments …

_I’d rather have a handful of moments with you than a lifetime with someone else._

Karigan’s eyes snapped open. She had been asleep for two days, Mara said, but how was that possible when Karigan had been somewhere, or some _when_ else? How could she have been there and here simultaneously?

Mara returned sooner than Karigan had expected. She had a mop and bucket with her, and Karigan was sorry that she could not clean up her own mess. Ben was with her, a bit nervous as always, but he smiled to see her.

“How are you feeling?” the Rider and Healer asked.

“Been better,” Karigan answered.

“I bet.”

A kitchen runner knocked timidly on the door and was let in while Ben was looking after her. The girl was probably no older than twelve, and she hardly looked up from the tray of food she was carrying.   

“Just set it on the table,” Mara said gently.

“Thank you,” Karigan said. Her throat hurt.

The girl looked up, startled to be thanked or addressed directly, probably, and her wide blue eyes fixed uncertainly on Karigan.

“You’re welcome, Rider. Sir. Ma’am.”

Karigan grinned at her. She knew just what it felt like to be out of her element and have no idea how to proceed. “Just Karigan, please.”

The girl went slack-jawed. “But that’s … I can’t … you’re …”

“Not much for formalities, I’m afraid,” Karigan explained.

“Most Riders aren’t,” Mara added with a wink. “You may call me Mara, and this is Ben. We’re not as scary as we look, promise.”

“And you are?” Karigan asked.

“Areina, Your … Sir … Karigan.” She shuffled her feet uncertainly. “Uh, but most people just call me Rei.”

“Well, thank you for bringing the food, Rei. Don’t be afraid to say hello next time we see each other, okay?”

The girl paused and then smiled shyly. “Okay. I have to go now. Bye, Karigan.”

Rei disappeared quickly. Mara grinned at Karigan over Ben’s head, who was inspecting the wound in her leg.

“Making new friends, are we?”

Karigan shrugged. “She looked scared.”

“Whatever has caused the fever, I don’t think it’s the wound,” Ben announced. “It looks clean, no signs of festering. In fact, aside from the symptoms you’ve experienced today, you seem to be in good health, Karigan. Still weak from your experiences, but otherwise fine.”

“No signs of … anything else?” Karigan asked vaguely.

“Anything else?” Ben repeated in confusion. “Isn’t all of that enough?”

“Well, yes but … is there any, I don’t know …”

“Karigan thinks she’s dying,” a new voice said from the doorway.

Karigan’s insides froze. Not now, why did it have to be now when she couldn’t get out of her stupid bed …

“Dying?” Mara demanded.

At the same time, Karigan said as evenly as she could manage, “Hello, Your Majesty.”

“If you don’t mind, I’d like a few minutes alone with Karigan.” Estora’s voice was as sweet and kind as it always was, but she said the words with all the confidence of someone who expected to be obeyed.

She said it like a queen.

For just a moment, as Mara and Ben filed dutifully out of her room, Karigan wished that she’d stayed unconscious.

           


	11. Chapter 11

The queen stepped further inside the room once everyone else was gone and closed the door. Despite the dread in the pit of her stomach, the headache, and the ache in her leg, Karigan pushed herself up to lean against the wall in some semblance of preparedness.

“I’m glad to see you awake,” Estora started. She spied the tray of food on the table and grabbed it easily. She set it carefully on a flat spot on the bed near Karigan’s knee, and then took up a spot of her own near the end of the bed. “We were worried about you.”

“I’m sorry to have been a cause for concern,” Karigan replied carefully.

Estora sighed heavily. “I didn’t know about Ard, Karigan. You have to believe me. I would never wish you harm.”

Karigan swallowed. For all that was between them now, she did believe Estora. They had been friends once, real friends before the pressures and realities of the world – and their stations – had pressed in on them.

“I do believe you,” she said finally. “No one is responsible for Ard’s actions but Ard, and he’s paid for them.”

With his life, but Karigan didn’t need to reiterate that.

“And my cousin,” Estora added with a notable hint of steel in her voice.

“But you didn’t need to come all the way to Rider barracks to tell me that, Your Majesty.”

Estora studied her with shrewd eyes. She was much the same as she’d always been, Karigan supposed, but there were small differences. Estora had clearly settled in to being queen and whatever that role required of her now. She had always been a bit quiet and reserved as a lady, but now there was an aloofness to her that Karigan didn’t remember being there before. Was that what the monarchy did to people, Karigan wondered? Closed them off from the world, from themselves?

“Didn’t I?” Estora asked. “How else was I to speak with you? I am allowed little free time, and you have made an art of avoiding me. Even when we’re in the same room you won’t look at me.”

All of this was said without heat, but Karigan felt her cheeks flame. It was true that she had been avoiding Estora, but that had more to do with her than with Estora. Her, and Zachary, and the complicated web of her life.

And maybe, if she were being honest, it had to do with Estora too. Seeing the other woman hurt. They had been friends, but the queen could not be friends with a common Rider – no matter Estora’s objections on that front. More than that, there would always be three layers to Estora now: she was someone who’d once been a friend, and Karigan’s queen, and yet another in the long list of things that separated her from Zachary.

Karigan had no idea how to manage those things, so it was easier to simply … not manage them.

“I apologize for my behavior, Your Majesty.” Karigan didn’t know what else to say.

Estora huffed in sharp frustration. Apparently, that had been the wrong thing to say. “Why do you insist on this, Karigan? I may be queen, but I’m still me! I’m still just Estora, your friend. I’m still the woman who loved F’ryan, against tradition and propriety and ruin. Why do you insist on treating me like a stranger?”

Karigan’s answer, when it came, was quiet. “Because I don’t know what else to do.”

“How about not treating me like an enemy, for a start?”

“I don’t treat you like an enemy,” Karigan snapped immediately. Her temper was rising.

“Well, you certainly don’t treat me like a friend.”

“How can I? You are royalty, Estora, my queen and commander in the king’s absence. How can you ignore that, how can you have failed to understand what that means?”

“I know what it means!” Estora practically yelled. “I know it means that you and Zachary …”

“No,” Karigan interrupted. She couldn’t bear to hear Estora say it, true enough though it was. And that wasn’t what she meant anyway. “No, you don’t. I am your servant, Lady, and bound to your service and the service of the kingdom.”

“You are no servant, Karigan.”

“I am, though. I deliver your messages, and fight in your battles, and do as I am bid. You have to know that. If we’re attacked, your safety is my primary concern – even above my own. You are my monarch, and there might come a day – sooner than you think – when you have to order me somewhere, I might not come back from. Have you considered that?”

Estora was a shade paler than Karigan thought she normally was, which was answer enough. “I guess that particular scenario never occurred to me,” Estora answered.

“We are not equal, Your Majesty. If you order me to be your friend, then I will obey.”

Estora was horrified. “I would never do that.”

“But you could,” Karigan pointed out. “And I would have no choice but to obey. You are the queen, and I … I am your humble servant.”

Estora turned her face away and then rose to her feet. She paced to the other side of the room, where she stood for long minutes with her back to the bed. Karigan knew the words were harsh, but they were true, and Estora clearly needed to hear them.

“Is this it, then?” Estora asked quietly. “Has being queen cost me everything? Am I doomed to spend the rest of my life alone and friendless, cut off from the world and stuck in this damned castle?”

Karigan was surprised to hear it, and the dark tinge of bitterness in the words. Karigan knew that she could be inattentive at times, and she had been either away or avoiding Estora for a long time now. Could she be as miserable as she sounded?

The thought made Karigan uncomfortable. “Surely you have friends.”

“Court friends that seek to curry my favor, or the king’s favor through me. None that I trust.” Estora turned to face her and across the distance Karigan could see that she was crying. “None that knew me when I was just a Lord Governor’s daughter, mourning a man she could not admit to loving.”

And, well, if the words had been meant to cut Karigan then they found their mark. Wasn’t that how she felt at times? Like she was mourning a man that she couldn’t have, a relationship and a future that could never come to pass?

“I’m not … not your friend, Estora. I just … it can’t be how it was before.”

“Because you’re in love with Zachary, and it hurts to see me with him.” The statement was made with startling acuteness, and no accusation.

Suddenly, Karigan was so tired, so deeply exhausted that it stretched all the way into her bones. “For all the reasons I just gave you.” Then, after a considerable pause, “And because yes, it hurts.”

Neither of them spoke for a while after that. For her part, Karigan felt hollowed out, and not just because she hadn’t eaten in days. The physical exhaustion and fever, the time travel, Estora … it was all so much more than she could have anticipated, more than one person should have to bear.

“I don’t hate you.” Estora’s voice was calm and quiet again, the tears dried and absent from her eyes.

“What?”

“When you first came to after Blackveil. You said that I hated you because he loved you.”

Karigan remembered that, vaguely, and how mortified she’d been at saying it aloud. As mortified as she was now, really, though at least this time it was just the two of them.

“I hardly knew where I was …"

“It’s okay, Karigan. But I don’t hate you, or him. You were in love long before I came into the picture, I think, and you should know that I, above everyone maybe, know what it’s like to love where it’s not allowed.”

Karigan leaned her head back against the wall and stared up at the ceiling. “I guess I didn’t think of it that way.”

Suddenly, it seemed to Karigan that they were all miserable in their own ways, and that there was more commonality there then she’d first been willing to see. Ignoring Estora had been easier than looking at her long enough to see the truth of her situation: married to a man she knew did not love her – or, at least, loved another – barred from making any real friends by the virtue of her station, and shoehorned into a life that had not truly been her choice.

“Would that our positions were reversed,” Estora whispered. “I would trade you in an instant.”

Karigan had no desire to be queen – but she would do it, for Zachary. To be with him, freely.

Something of her thoughts must have shown on her face, because Estora smiled a bit and returned to her seat on the bed. She pushed the tray of food toward Karigan. She dropped her head away from the wall and looked at Estora.

“Eat, please. I did not mean to interrupt, and you look like you need it.”

“I look terrible, you mean.”

“I was trying to be diplomatic, but yes.”

They both laughed, then. The tension in the room released by degrees, and Karigan found herself picking up the now cold toast. She meant what she’d said about being Estora’s friend, but Karigan could admit that it felt good to be able to be in her presence like this. Everything was so hard now, and she was under no illusion that it would get any easier, but at least for now it could be almost like it was before. She had missed Estora’s companionship. She was a good woman, and a good friend – and a good queen.

The headache wasn’t gone, but the food helped a little. Karigan ate slowly, and for a while the two women were content to simply sit and be silent with each other.

Then, “I respect what you’ve said, Karigan, and I think I understand better now. But you’ll never be a servant to me. You have been a truer friend to me than anyone but F’ryan, and I can’t see you as anything but. I’ll keep my distance, out of respect for you, but I want you to know that I’ll always consider you a friend first.”

Karigan bit back the sting of tears. She nodded once and forced herself to look up at Estora. “I’m sorry if I’ve hurt you, and that I’ll probably do it again, though I don’t mean to. I do care about you, Estora, and not just because you’re my queen.”

Estora was sad, but she smiled a bit anyway. “We are all hurting each other, I think. Despite our best efforts to the contrary. How can we not, in such a situation? Perhaps that’s just life.”

Karigan grimaced. “That makes it sound so … cruel.”

“Does it? I don’t think so. I think it’s just … life. It just is. If it’s cruel, it’s only because we make it that way.”

“How so?”

“By imagining up stupid rules, like who it’s okay to love. Or that those of a certain station must marry at all.”

A gleam had entered Estora’s eyes, and Karigan thought she was imagining what her life with F’ryan could have been like without the trappings of her station as a well-bred lady expected to marry into nobility.

“Well, maybe it’s a good thing you’re queen, then.”

“Why do you say that?” Estora asked with surprise.

Karigan rolled her eyes at her. “Because they’re your rules, Estora. You’ve inherited them, and now you have the power to change them if you choose. However you choose. Well, maybe not those ones in particular, but the point stands.”

“I guess,” Estora agreed hesitantly.

A commotion outside the door their attention. The deep timbre of Willis’s voice was audible, but the words were unintelligible. It was followed by an irritated huff. 

“Honestly, you lot are more trouble than you’re worth, do you know that?” It was Captain Mapstone. “She’s my Rider, Willis, how could I possibly be a threat?”

If there was a reply it was too quiet to hear.

“I suppose I’ll rescue her,” Estora said jokingly. Then, more seriously, “and let you rest. I’m sorry to have ambushed you. I could have waited until you felt better, at least.”

“I did make it rather hard for you,” Karigan acquiesced.

“You’ll stop avoiding me at least, I hope?”

“I’ll do my best.” It was really all that she could offer, and she hoped that Estora understood.

Estora smiled. “That’s a start.” She rose and headed for the door but stopped with her hand on the handle. “Karigan?”

“Hmm?”

“It’s not my place, but … Zachary would be here, if he could. He was distraught when he heard no one could wake you. I think if another day had passed no decorum in the world could have kept him away.”

She had no idea what to do with that information. It hurt and warmed her at the same time, and was utterly useless. “I … that …”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Estora assured her. “I just thought you should know, in case you don’t. I think the kingdom is the only thing that Zachary loves more than you – and even then, I’m not sure.”

Estora pulled the door open. A startled Captain Mapstone could be heard greeting the queen, obviously thrown to find her in Karigan’s room. They exchanged a few words and then Estora was gone, sweeping off down the hall with a Weapon in tow.

Willis remained outside Karigan’s room, stoic as ever.

Karigan was still so flabbergasted by Estora’s parting words that she didn’t even greet the Captain when she entered the room.

“Karigan?”

“With all due respect, Captain,” Karigan returned when she could finally find her voice, “if this is anything more important than a hello, I think it might have to wait.”

“You don’t look like you’re up for much more than that,” Laren mused.

“That is an understatement,” Karigan murmured, and slid down to rest her head on the pillow.

“I won’t stay long,” the Captain assured her. “Mara sent word that you were awake, and I wanted to come check on you. Has Ben been here?”

“Yes, he says I’m fine.” The Captain raised an eyebrow. “Well, fine except for the fever and lack of consciousness, but he doesn’t know what that’s about.”

She needed to tell the Captain about the travelling, since it seemed to have happened independently of her brooch and might be tied to Laurelyn’s Gift. Karigan was hesitant to bring it up, though. She knew there would be questions about where she went, and why, and how. She didn’t have answers to the last two questions, and the first … well, it felt private, and she wasn’t sure that she wanted to share that information with anyone but the one person she couldn’t. She could tell half-truths maybe, and leave the details out, but she knew that the Captain would be able to tell that she wasn’t telling the whole story.

Then again, what difference did it make, really? It wasn’t like she’d learned anything that would help anyone but herself, and maybe Zachary.

Had she?

“Karigan?”

“I’m just … I’m still so tired.” Her eyes were already drooping again, and her body felt heavy. “I think I need to sleep a little more …”

She was asleep before the last syllable had faded.


	12. Chapter 12

Karigan spent several days in her room, sleeping and trying to recover from whatever had befallen her, but thankfully she did not travel again. The fever and headache came and went without apparent reason. Ben determined early on that whatever it was wasn't a sickness, and therefore not contagious, but Karigan was restricted to her rooms anyway. Not that she had a lot of energy to go anywhere else.

Mara was in and out of her room often, and Karigan wasn't without visitors. Fergal and Tegan both dropped by, and even Lynx stopped in before he left on his next errand. Karigan knew that he would not be back for a while and made sure to hug him before he left.

Being restricted to her rooms meant that Karigan's food had to be brought to her, and she was glad to see that it was Rei who had been tasked with delivering her meals. The girl warmed up to her sometime around the third day, and Karigan found her a sweet but gregarious child. She declared she wanted to be a Green Rider after the fourth day, and that Karigan was probably the nicest person she'd ever met, but the sickest. The last had made Karigan laugh.

Estora did not come by again, though Karigan hadn't really expected her to.

She didn't dare think about the king.

Karigan had been stuck in her room for a full week by the time she was allowed to leave. Ben had warned her against doing anything too taxing, and the Captain would not allow her back on duty, so Karigan had decided to visit the stables. She'd had no word on Condor yet, but it would do her well to be around horses again.

There was no longer a Weapon posted outside her room, which Karigan supposed she was grateful for. Rider barracks were fairly quiet, since it was the middle of the day and most of her fellow Green Riders were ostensibly out on message runs. Karigan longed to be on one herself, if only to feel normal again. To feel normal and have something as simple as a message errand to focus on.

Karigan went slowly, but the prolonged rest had been good for her leg. Still not as steady or limber as her uninjured one, it caused her gait to be a tad uneven. She was able to move better, though, and that was a welcome improvement.

The first thing she'd done upon leaving her room this morning had been to shower, and as she stepped out into the cool breeze of the day it blew the scent of clean hair toward her. Karigan took a deep breath, relishing the fresh air after so long spent indoors. Fall was close: Karigan could see some of the leaves already starting to lose their bright colors, and the grass fading to brown in some spots. They had some good grazing days left, but before long they'd need to switch the horses to their winter feed.

When Karigan got to the barn she found it mostly empty. Blue Bird was in his stall, of course – the Captain never went out on errands anymore – and Fergal's Sunny was there as well. Carrots, the companion horse that they kept, poked her chestnut head over the stall door and whickered a greeting. Carrots was lame and couldn't be ridden, but she was good to have around for the other horses. Karigan greeted her with a scratch behind the ears and a kiss on the nose.

The stalls were clean, but Karigan busied herself with refilling the water buckets and giving all three of them a good brush down. Though it wasn't common to work with another Rider's horse without permission, Karigan didn't think that the Captain or Fergal would mind. Sunny, Carrots, and Blue Bird all seemed to enjoy the attention.

When she considered her work done, Karigan went back outside to haul herself up and sit on the top rail of the paddock. She had a great view of the castle and the Winding Way, the main road that up to and through its gates. She could see the banners flapping lazily in the breeze, and a few people on their way into and out of the castle. It was peaceful out here.

"Well met, Galadheon."

The soft voice startled her. Only a sure seat and long hours in the saddle kept her from falling. When she turned, she was shocked to see Ealdean behind her.

"Ealdean!" she greeted warmly. "I had no idea you were still here."

"I confess, we had not intended to stay so long."

"Why did you?" she asked curiously.

"I do not think I'm at liberty to say, though I don't doubt you'll find out soon enough. We were invited to stay for the announcement, as well, and we did not want to seem rude after trespassing on your king's generosity for so long."

Well, that was certainly ambiguous enough to ignite Karigan's curiosity. She'd only been confined to her room for a week, and not actually away from the castle, yet it seemed that she had missed a lot anyway.

"Announcement?"

"Hmm. We have it on good authority that your queen is expecting."

Karigan's heart and lungs skittered to a stop. Expecting what she wanted to ask, but how could it be anything but what she thought it was? Estora was going to have a baby.

Zachary's baby.

The heartache hit so suddenly and spread so quickly that Karigan might have thought that she'd been hit with some nefarious, poisoned arrow. She had known, of course. On some level she had known that Zachary and Estora's marriage had been consummated. It had to have been to be considered truly valid, and the stability of the throne was predicated partly on the existence of children. Kings had to have children to carry on the line, or the kingdom would be thrown into a war of succession, and those always ended badly.

Still … still.

"I have surprised you," Ealdean said. "You did not know, and I have sprung this on you without warning. My apologies, Galadheon."

Karigan wasn't sure that her throat worked anymore. She shoved the words out anyway. "You did surprise me, yes, but there's no need to apologize. No harm was done."

Outwardly, maybe, but Karigan felt as though she were bleeding inwardly.

Zachary and Estora were going to have a child.

As they should, Karigan told herself. This was good for both of them, and good for the kingdom. Zachary's position on the throne would be stronger for it, and Estora … Estora would never be alone again.

"I think maybe I've been out here long enough," Karigan said to no one in particular.

"Would you mind company for the return trip?" Ealdean offered.

Karigan partly wanted to say no, but maybe having Ealdean with her would help. "Not at all."

The Eletian matched her pace easily. Though it was much slower than his usual one, Ealdean made no complaint as they made their way back to the castle. She felt heavier, but the weight must have been all in Karigan's heart because her bad leg held steady.

Once in the castle again, Karigan had fresh eyes to take in what she had missed before. The activity in the castle was more than it would normally be: runners darted to and fro in the corridors, and formal decorations were being laid out and hung. Everywhere she looked preparations were being made; she had been a fool to miss them earlier.

In that moment, Karigan knew she had to leave. She had to get as far away from the castle and the royal couple as she could – for as long as she could, or at least as long as it would take her to school her heart to indifference. She could not manage a lifetime of feeling like this.

Ealdean was a quiet but reassuring companion in light of Karigan's riotous emotions. He left her at the top of the hall to Rider barracks with a slight bow and a look she thought was meant to be reassuring, though it was so slight as to almost not be there at all.

Karigan did not hide, exactly, but she found it easier to be in her room.

The hidden blessing of the announcement party was that everyone was too busy to take much note of her. The emptiness of the Rider barracks made sense now, since her friends were probably all out summoning the Province-Lords to the castle for a party. Or taking notice to the ones who would decline. Karigan didn't know what the procedure was for a birth announcement.

Avoidance was easy when everyone was too busy to notice. Karigan did not stay in her room – she made several more trips to the stable, and to the Mending Wing when Ben could not make it to her and requested her for a check-up – but neither did she make her movements as blatant as she once might have. It was almost like being a ghost, though Karigan didn't actually have to resort to using her brooch to fade.

She made it nearly another full week before the thing she dreaded came to pass.

Karigan was in the Rider's common room and pouring over the accounts when a Green Foot runner appeared in the doorway. Her stomach sank the moment she saw the young boy in the door; it was Tomas again, a boy she knew well.

"Hello, Tomas." Her voice was surprisingly steady for how uneven she felt. "Are you looking for me?"

She sincerely hoped he'd say no.

Instead, he nodded. "You've been called to the Small Council Room." They knew each other well enough that Tomas didn't bother calling her by a title when no one else was around.

Karigan sighed deeply. It would have happened sooner or later, she surmised, for some reason or another. Putting it off was impossible. She'd had some time, at least, to steel herself to the news. Steel herself and recover, so that at least this time she stood a relatively good chance of not falling on the floor in a heap.

"Very well."

Karigan stuck a paper between the pages she was on and closed the accounts book. Maybe she'd return when she was done; if not, she had made good progress on the neglected accounts, and whoever took them up next wouldn't have such a hard time with them.

Her limp wasn't gone, but it was less pronounced. Ben had assured her that it should fade entirely with more time, and that the scar – a nasty thing that ran nearly the entire length of her thigh – wouldn't inhibit her movement. She was well-recovered for the most part, though the double vision persisted, and she was occasionally prone to running a higher than average temperature. Headaches were common too, though she and Ben both supposed that had something to do with the vision.

The Small Council Room was more formal than the King's study, and less formal than the official council chambers or audience hall. Karigan knew that room was generally used for meetings between the king and his advisors, or a handful of dignitaries that the king wanted to put at ease.

When they were close enough to see the door, Tomas ran ahead of her. There was no herald to announce her arrival – Neff was reserved for the grander congregations and formal occasions – so Tomas would enter before her and serve in Neff's place.

Karigan paused outside the door. Her heart was racing, and the surge of adrenaline that came with it was enough to make her palms sweat. She took a deep breath.

She missed Tomas's announcement, but clearly heard Zachary's response.

"See her in."

Karigan waited for Tomas to open the door. She made no visible adjustments to her posture but hoped that her back and shoulders were as straight as they felt. She also hoped no one realized they were held that way by tension, rather than good posture.

The short walk across the room gave her time to study its occupants. The king and queen were there, of course, as well as Captain Mapstone, Prince Jametari, and Somial. Karigan noted with some small surprise that Ben was there as well, looking well out of his element.

She stopped before the round table that was set into the middle of the room and bowed. She rose when the king told her to, but barely spared a moment to look at him. Instead, she fixed her gaze on a spot on the table just before him.

"You sent for me, Your Majesty?"

She kept her voice as cool and neutral as possible.

"Indeed. You seem well recovered, as Healer Ben and Captain Mapstone have said. You are feeling well, I hope?"

The questions were innocuous enough. The sign of a good monarch, Karigan supposed, to anyone else's ears. To Karigan, it was as though he were mocking her.

"Well enough, sire."

"Prince Jametari has proposed an idea that he'd like you to hear. As it affects you, no decisions have been made, nor can they be by anyone but yourself. Will you hear him out?"

"Certainly, sire."

She raised her eyes and turned her head slightly to observe the Eletian prince, who sat as regally in his chair as if it were a throne. He inclined his head toward her.

"I am gratified to see you in such health, Galadheon," he started. "We have wished often for your recovery."

"Thank you," Karigan said with a real smile.

"Though your physical wounds have healed, your young mender tells us that you continue to suffer some illness?"

Since it was phrased as a question, or at least an opening for an explanation, Karigan obliged. "I get headaches a lot, and fevers. Both come and go as they please."

Jametari had been expecting that answer. "And your vision?"

Karigan shifted her feet. "The same."

The Prince studied her in silence for a minute. His next statement caught her off guard. "You have moved in time, I suspect."

Undignified as it was, Karigan's mouth fell open. Guessing by the sudden shifting of bodies, his pronouncement had surprised everyone else as well.

"Rider G'ladheon, is this true?" the king asked.

She dared a brief glance at him, so as not to seem disrespectful. "Yes."

"Why didn't you say anything?" Captain Mapstone jumped in.

Prince Jametari saved her from answering. "More importantly, when did you go?"

Karigan thought of the Zachary she had found there, and the room where she'd woken; their room. "I'm not sure," she answered honestly. "Years; a decade, maybe."

"How can you know?" the Queen asked.

Karigan clenched her jaw. "I saw someone there."

"Someone you know?" the prince continued.

Had she known him? He'd been her Zachary, and not her Zachary; a man waiting for a version of her that had not come. "In a manner."

"Was it the future?" Jametari asked.

"How could it have been?" The answer was unexpectedly harsh and acerbic. Karigan hadn't meant it to sound so, but she could feel that Zachary's arms around her as clearly as if they were now – now, when he sat across the room with the mother of his future child. "Forgive me," she said immediately.

"This future caused you pain." It was said softly and without reproach.

All things considered, it was probably the least painful thing Karigan had experienced in months. In fact, she'd found herself hoping to close her eyes and wake up back there again, just for a moment. Though it was probably better that she hadn't.

"I will ask nothing more. We have a healer in Eletia, the last to escape Argenthyne before that great city fell. She is the last of us that might know how to help you with the Gift. It's my belief that these … lingering effects you suffer, and the time travelling itself are manifestations of the Gift. You must be taught to manage it."

"So, you don't think I'm dying?" Karigan asked the question coldly, without inflection.

More shifting of bodies in seats.

"Karigan," Laren started.

"On the contrary," Jametari interrupted. His gaze was direct, and Karigan was grateful for it. "I think the weight of that which you now carry is overtaxing you, as you were not meant to carry it. Without our healer's help, I think that you will continue to deteriorate until the inevitable happens."

Well, that declaration took a moment to digest. "So, my options are, what? Come with you to the healer or just stay here to waste away and die?"

"Karigan." It was the reproach in the word that drew Karigan's attention to Estora, whose face was drawn. It was impossible to miss Zachary's expression, though she tried.

She ignored them both and turned back to the Eletian. "And if your healer can't help me?"

His answer was a bit of a foregone conclusion, but it helped to hear it anyway. "Then I'm afraid there's nothing more we can do."

The room fell silent at that. Karigan tried to weigh her options logically, and the possibility that either may end up the same way.

"Can't you just take it away?" Captain Mapstone asked.

The prince shook his head. "I'm afraid it's not our gift to command. The last of us known to have any command of it has long since been lost."

"Laurelyn."

"Yes. Though, how Galadheon could come to possess it is still something I have not been able to make sense of. It was passed to none outside of her direct line, unless given by that lady herself."

Karigan was hit with a jolt of surprise. How did the prince not know that she'd met Laurelyn? Ealdean had been there with her in that tower when the Lady of Light appeared; they had spoken at length. She found it hard to believe that Ealdean would not have told his prince about the encounter – but if he had, then Jametari would know where her double vision was from.

Karigan cleared her throat. When the Eletian prince was looking at her again she said, "Laurelyn did give it to me."

His normally serene face transformed quickly. "Impossible."

"I met Laurelyn in Argenthyne," Karigan continued. "Ealdean was there, he spoke with her as well. Ask him, if you don't believe me. She is the reason for the double vision – I could only save the Sleepers by retrieving them from the past. Surely Ealdean told you this when he returned?"

"He told me of meeting the Lady of Light, yes, but said all he knew after that was battle."

Yes, that was what he'd remember. Karigan recalled it all: how he had urged her to go with Laurelyn even as her friends battled the evil creatures that swarmed the broken palace, the sleepers that had been turned. She remembered seeing Solan ripped apart, and the gruesome nythlings that had besieged them all; Yates, and Lhean, and …

"That's true." Karigan's voice sounded hollow. The memories were painful, like everything seemed to be these days, and she was so tired of hurting. "I was – I tried – I wanted to stay and fight with them, to do what I could, but." She stopped trying to explain it.

Laurelyn had promised that if Karigan did not follow her a worse fate would befall the kingdom, and the scourge of Blackveil would be released onto her home. Given such a choice – their small group or the entirety of the kingdom – Karigan had had no choice but to follow.

To leave them to their doom.

"You did what you had to, Rider." The words had come from the king.

Karigan looked to him automatically, hearing different words layered over the ones he'd spoken: I'm so tired of always doing what I must.

She couldn't stand to keep looking at him. Belatedly she realized that she was angry; so angry, with herself and the king and the queen and her captain … angry with everyone, really, angry at the whole world and the workings of her life.

"It would seem that you are a remarkable sort of person, Karigan Galadheon, and important in ways that I did not anticipate. We would be honored if you would travel with us to Eletia, where our healer will train you to wield the gift you've been given."

"You want me to go with you? To Eletia?"

It was unheard of. Humans were not allowed to travel to the Eletian homeland, wherever it existed, hidden and protected. The only time Karigan had been there was to deliver the Sleepers, and even then, it had been so brief that she hardly remembered it.

The invitation was clearly unexpected to more than just Karigan.

"That's a serious offer you make, Prince Jametari." The king said it pleasantly enough.

"I have considered it at length. Tierasin will not travel beyond Eletia's borders, and even if she would … staying here would be ill advised, I think." He said the last bit to Karigan alone.

"Ill advised?" Captain Mapstone repeated. "But this is her home. Her friends are here, her duties …"

"Can we not talk about me like I'm not in the room again?" Karigan cut in sharply. She'd had her fill of that the last time they'd all been in a room together.

"That's not what I intended," the captain replied.

"Your reasons are good ones, Captain," the prince said. "And all the more reason she must go. What would happen if you stayed, Karigan?" The use of her first name, and only her first name, was odd coming from someone so formal. He didn't give her a chance to answer before he cast his gaze over the others. "You would demand something that she'd be required to give, either by virtue of her character or your station."

"We'd give her whatever time she needed," Estora insisted. "To heal and learn whatever was necessary."

But Karigan knew that wasn't true, and from their silence she thought the others knew as well.

"Would you?" the prince challenged. "Or would you order her to carry your messages and fight your battles, as she has sworn to do? Even injured and sick, I have seen how unfailingly loyal she is to each of you, to come when you call no matter what it costs her. Can you have failed to see this, you who claim to have only her well-being at heart? Or are you simply so inured to it that you have ceased to appreciate it?"

It was the most accusatory thing that Prince Jametari had ever said, and Karigan was stunned to hear it. She had no idea how to respond, or if she was expected to do so at all.

"I hope you are not inferring, Your Highness, that we are ignorant of Karigan's sacrifices." Zachary's tone was dark with warning.

"I infer nothing, Your Majesty. I was merely stating facts and addressing an eventuality that everyone in this room knows will come to pass. Rider Galadheon's best chance lies in Eletia, where she will be an honored guest, and at no one's command but her own."

He was right. Karigan knew that he was right, and yet there was a certain unbelievability to it all that made it hard to contemplate. She had traveled long distances before, and been away for long periods of time, but this was Eletia. This was somewhere outside of Sacoridia, where she would not be a Rider or a knight or even a merchant's daughter. She'd just be … Karigan G'ladheon.

Whoever that was.

Karigan was the one to break the silence. "How long? How long would I be gone?"

"I'm afraid it's impossible to say. What Tierasin will need to teach you is … difficult to explain, and more difficult to learn. I cannot guess at your chances of success, though I believe that if the Lady of Light blessed you with such a gift then she must have thought you worthy of it. Though I should warn you, time moves differently in Eletia."

"Differently?" Karigan repeated.

"Slower." No other explanation was forthcoming.

Karigan said nothing. She shifted more of her weight off of her bad leg, which was holding up admirably but still gave off an intermittent twinge to let her know that it wasn't happy with standing so long.

Her options weren't options at all, really. Stay and do her duty until Laurelyn's ironically named Gift killed her or go to Eletia and try to learn to live with it – and possibly die anyway.

"You don't need to decide now, Rider," the king had started.

Stay, and watch Estora's belly grow large with Zachary's child.

Maybe the gods had finally taken pity on her and given her a reprieve she had not thought to look for.

"I'll go."

She'd known that she would go almost from the moment it had been suggested. She was as determined now that she couldn't stay as she had been when she'd first heard of the royal baby, and now that she'd acknowledged how angry she was … she had to learn to be indifferent, and she'd never manage that here.

Karigan did not look at her monarchs, or her captain. They could not keep her here – knew that they wouldn't try, not when it was her life on the line – and the king himself had said that the decision was hers.

"Thank you for extending the offer. I'm honored."

"As we will be, Galadheon, to have you with us."

Prince Jametari rose without any verbal acknowledgement that the meeting was over. It might have been seen as an insult at another time, but the king did not say a word as the Prince, and Somial with him, stepped around the table. Karigan bowed slightly at the waist as he approached. The Prince angled himself toward her and stopped just in front of her and to the side, so that she had to turn her head to look at him.

"You may dispense with those formalities now. While I appreciate and acknowledge the respect you offer, I am neither your monarch nor your commander. We are simply …" he said a word in the Eletian tongue that Karigan did not recognize. He seemed to search for its equivalent in the common tongue. "I believe the word you use is 'us'. We are simply us."

Somial stepped forward and whispered something in his monarch's ear.

"Somial tells me that it may also mean friend, though it feels too simple to be an accurate translation."

Of all of the things that had happened today, having the Eletian Prince claim that they were friends was definitely at the top of the "surreal" list.

"Thank you." It was the only thing she could think to say. Another thought occurred to her then. "When do we leave?"

Prince Jametari thought for a moment. "Two days hence."

She was shocked at the suddenness of it. Two days was hardly enough time to get her affairs in order, which she absolutely had to do if she was going away for an unknown amount of time. There were letters to write and …

And what? Packing would take her but a minute and probably encompass the entirety of her wardrobe. She could write to her family and Estral in an hour at the most, and most of her other affairs had been put in place before the venture to Blackveil.

"I'll be ready."

This was clearly a day, and a week, for surprises.

"It seems sudden, perhaps," Jametari said, "but I think Eletia will be good for you, and I have been too long away from my people. It is time for healing; you have carried those wounds too long, I think."

Karigan furrowed her brow. "They are mostly healed, Your Highness."

"If we are to dispense with formalities, you must call me Jametari. Or Etari, as Grae once did. And I do not speak of those wounds; I speak of these." He touched one long, careful finger to her chest just at the level of her heart. "They are more dangerous, for how easily they hide."

Karigan didn't mean to, but her eyes shot straight up and locked onto Zachary's. His expression told her that he'd heard everything.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've actually had this chapter and the next written for like ages, I just got distracted by life and forgot to upload it. Sorry. I think in terms of time this is the longest fic I've ever written/worked on - I started writing it seven years ago. And even with all that time, I still love this story and know exactly where I'm going with it. That ... almost never happens to me.

By some coincidence, or the grace of thoughtful planning, Karigan would leave with the Eletians directly after the announcement party. She had wished them to be away sooner, but Ealdean had told her that the king’s invitation had already been accepted. They could not leave now without giving a great affront, and that was not acceptable. Especially in light of the treaty that the king and the Eletians had entered into when they’d first arrived.

Karigan had plenty of time to pen a letter to her father and aunts explaining the situation, and another to Estral – and Alton – at the wall. She regretted that Condor was not here and that she’d have to spend even longer away from her beloved horse, but there was no way to get him here fast enough. She left Mara with strict instructions to spoil and love on him whenever possible.

The day before the party, and Karigan’s subsequent departure, she found Captain Mapstone standing in her doorway. The visit wasn’t particularly unexpected, but Karigan could not say that she’d been looking forward to it. For reasons that Karigan could not place, or dared not examine, the knowledge that she’d be gone soon had only amplified Karigan’s anger. Misdirected and unjust as it was, Karigan couldn’t seem to get rid of it.

“Ready?” Captain Mapstone asked. She had stopped just inside Karigan’s door and now surveyed the space.

“Yes,” Karigan replied. She moved to retrieve the small stack of letters from her desk. “Will you see that these get delivered for me?”

“Certainly.”

The captain glanced down at the first name on the pile, and Karigan had a sneaking suspicion that she knew what the older woman was looking for.

“It’ll be strange not having you here.”

“I’m gone all the time,” Karigan pointed out dispassionately.

“Yes, but this is different.”

The fact that it was different was one of the things Karigan found herself most looking forward to. She’d not had a chance to learn who she was outside of her duty to country and king for years; not since she’d first gone to school in Selium.

“I’m sure you’ll adjust.” It wasn’t a kind thing to say, but Karigan wasn’t overly concerned.

“The king plans to call one last meeting to go over the details. We’ll need a way to reach you in an emergency, and to know that you’ll have a way back if your brooch deems it necessary.”

Karigan was taking her brooch, of course. It had not abandoned her and leaving it behind would be folly.

“I’ll expect the summons.”

Karigan didn’t notice the concern that sparked in her captain’s eyes, or the wary turn of her countenance. “Have you spoken with him?”

Karigan didn’t bother with playing stupid. “Of course not. I have not seen the king since yesterday’s meeting.”

“Estora told me she came looking for you earlier, but you were nowhere to be found.”

“The queen may find me whenever she wishes.”

Laren couldn’t take it anymore. This terse, closed off young woman was not the Karigan she had come to know, and she didn’t need her brooch or its amplified powers to feel the growing anger and coldness that radiated off of her Rider.

“Karigan, I know that you’re hurting, but leaving like this … if something happens, you’ll regret it.”

Karigan’s eyes were harsh when she faced Laren. “Hurt? What do you care how I feel? What do you know? I thought you’d be relieved to see me go. You have your political marriage and royal baby, and now I won’t be around to be a complication. You should be thanking me, Captain, not lecturing me.”

_Truth_ , her brooch whispered. Then it sent her a wave of anguish so sharp it almost made her shake.

Laren had known about how Karigan and Zachary felt for each other for years, and actively worked to keep them apart. There could be no hope for them in light of their respective stations, and Laren had prayed that with time and distance they’d simply … stop loving one another, or find someone else, or at the very least learn to let it be.

None of those things had happened, though, not in the way Laren had hoped. They continued to love each other despite the difficulties and the distance – or because of them, perhaps - and Zachary was married now but only because he had to be, because he’d been forced into it by a council of treacherous advisors who trapped him when he was too ill to know the ground from the sky.

And they’d labored admirably, truly they had. Zachary had taken no other but Estora, though plenty of monarchs in the past had set a precedent for the opposite, and Karigan … Karigan had pursued no one. They each simply existed in this state of could not have, despite how fervently they wanted, and in her folly Laren had missed – or been unwilling to see – how it had hurt them. How it continued to hurt them.

She loved Zachary and Karigan both in their own ways, and it was impossible for Laren to deny what she knew to be the unequivocal truth: they each were doing what was asked of them at the expense of themselves, and they were miserable.

It was tearing them apart.

Such a precious, tender thing to share, and the gods had seen fit to give it to the king and a commoner. It was cruel.

And perhaps Laren had been cruel too, in her way. Though she’d only been trying to protect them.

“I am grateful, Karigan.”

The younger woman didn’t want to hear it and turned her back on her. “I’m sorry, but I have nothing more to say, Captain.”

Laren nodded to herself. She did not see how she could have done anything differently, but maybe she should have tried. Maybe it would have been as simple as giving Karigan someone to talk to that knew what was happening. She had hidden her love for Zachary like the highest order of secret, as best she could. That had been a mistake. Laren should have talked to her.

“I know you don’t believe me right now, Karigan, but I am grateful. For everything you’ve done – and I’m not just talking about as a Rider. You have behaved admirably for all that it’s cost you and raised no argument against it. Unjust as it is. I hope you know that I only meant to protect you – both of you – and I’d change it if I could.”

Karigan was so tired of hearing that. It neither helped nor changed anything, so was useless. Still, beneath her anger she knew and accepted that her captain meant what she said, and it was worth something. Laren Mapstone was a good captain, and a good woman, and Karigan’s anger would pass soon enough. Things would go back to the way they were. No, they’d get better, once Karigan could learn to accept this as well.

“Thank you.”

The captain did not linger after that.

Some of Karigan’s fellow riders had returned from delivering their messages, so most of the rest of Karigan’s day was spent with them in the common room. Mara slipped away from her duties for a bit to join them, so a handful of them passed the day in companionship and laughter. Mara, Fergal, Tegan, and Trace were there, and even Connly managed to slip in at one point. They were stunned to learn where Karigan was going at first; she left out any mention of possibly dying and said only that they thought they could teach her to use what she’d been given.

Mara wanted letters, of course, and then sent them all into a huge discussion that turned into wild speculation when she wondered if they even had paper in Eletia.

“But we’ve never seen them write!” Mara exclaimed.

“That doesn’t mean they don’t,” Connly replied. “There’s lots of things we don’t see them do.”

“Or maybe they can just read each other’s minds,” Fergal suggested.

“Wouldn’t that be nice,” Tegan said.

“It has its advantages,” Trace agreed.

Mara was stuck on the letter writing, though. “But how do you think they send them anywhere? Oh, do you think they have horses? Karigan, you have to find out! Think of it: an Eletian horse!”

“I bet they’re beautiful.” Tegan’s tone indicated that she was already daydreaming of such a creature.

“What if they’re not, though? What if they’re … I dunno, weird.”

“Weird? It’s a horse, Fergal, how could it be weird?” Connly was trying to hide his laugh.

“I said I don’t know, didn’t I?”

Karigan laughed more that afternoon than she had in a long time. In the company of her friends and compatriots, it was easy to forget the reasons she was leaving. For those few hours she was just a Rider enjoying a bit of respite before her next assignment, and the world made sense again.

Karigan was returning to her room before the dinner hour when the sight of Fastion outside her door sent her stomach spiraling down to her feet. Her pace slowed, as if that would do her any good; there was no sense in trying to slip away, because Fastion had already seen her and watched her progress with his tell-tale lack of an expression.

“Fastion,” she said by way of greeting.

The Weapon inclined his head. “Rider G’ladheon. The king wishes to speak with you.”

Of course, he did. “Is this an official summons?”

“No. The king asked that I relay that this is not an order, and you are free to do as you wish.”

“Then please inform His Majesty that I am indisposed with travel arrangements.”

They all knew that she wasn’t, her and Zachary and Fastion; just as they all knew that neither Zachary nor Fastion would call her on it. Staying away was easier and, hopefully, more merciful.

Though it felt like a blade being buried in her chest.

“I have also come to share our wishes for your safe journey, and eventual return.” Karigan knew that the we Fastion was referring to was himself and his fellow Weapons, and not the king. “We hope that you will continue to train, if your situation permits you to do so, and that said training will continue to serve you faithfully whenever you have need of it.”

Karigan smiled, a real smile full of fondness, and dared to touch the back of Fastion’s hand. If he were anyone else, she might have hugged him. “Thank you, Fastion.”

“I would also give you this.” Fastion retrieved a plain black cloth from somewhere that Karigan could not name. She had never known the Weapons to have pockets before.

Karigan took it curiously. The Black Shields were not an order for giving gifts, and those they did she’d already received: her bone wood staff.

When she peeled back the first layer of the cloth, she found a plain but polished piece of obsidian attached to a piece of leather cord. It did not shine, exactly, but pulled in any surrounding light to almost give off the illusion of doing so. The edges were beveled, so that on her palm the middle stood raised. It was the shape of a shield.

“It’s beautiful,” Karigan said, stunned. She had a notion that it had been so carefully crafted that the edges would be sharp enough to cut, if she turned it so. Ornamental and practical; a weapon, should all others fail. “I’ve never seen you wear jewelry.”

“It is a traditional pilgrim’s badge, worn by many initiates who must travel before taking the oath.”

Karigan didn’t bother asking why some of them might need to travel and others didn’t, or where they traveled to.

“It is a talisman, meant to protect and remind.”

“Remind them of what?”

“That I cannot say. It is different for everyone.”

The little shield didn’t have to be worn as a necklace, she supposed, but the leather cord was long enough. Karigan had never worn much in the way of jewelry, but this was different.

“Would you mind?” she motioned to her neck, and when Fastion nodded in agreement she handed him the necklace and turned around. Her hair was in its customary braid, so it was easy to sweep out of the way while Fastion secured the leather cord around her neck.

When he was finished, the shield hung just below the hollow of Karigan’s throat. The obsidian was cold against her skin and would take some getting used to, but she liked the weight of it.

“Thank you,” she said as she reached up to brush her fingers over it.

His message answered, and the gift given, Fastion excused himself and disappeared down the hall on silent feet. Unexpected as it was, Karigan was going to miss Fastion and the other Weapons that she had come to consider friends. Though it had not occurred to her to say goodbye to them, she was glad that Fastion had.

Karigan spent the rest of the evening in her room making sure that she hadn’t missed anything, and that there were no last-minute preparations to be made.

Try as she might, though, she couldn’t keep herself from wondering why the king had summoned her, or what might have happened if she’d gone. Whatever it was, it probably would have been painful – and only would have made leaving harder (and staying impossible).

She had made the right choice by declining. That brought her little comfort, however, and by the time the first fingers of dawn were reaching in her small window Karigan couldn’t say with any certainty that she’d slept more than two hours together. She knew there was no point in trying to go back to sleep, however, so she decided to start the day.

When she was clean and dressed in her usual Rider green, Karigan made sure to set her travel gear next to the door. She’d only need to swing by her room and grab it to be on her way. Now that the day of departure had arrived – and the day that the king and queen would announce the existence of the future prince or princess – Karigan found that it couldn’t pass swiftly enough. She tidied her room and made sure everything was where it should be and, with a last glance around, shut the door and went to find something to do.

Tegan nearly ran into her at the end of the hall. “Oh! Sorry, Karigan.”

“No harm done. Why the rush?”

“The captain has us on last minute chores and duty checks for the announcement party tonight. Haven’t had a minute’s peace since I woke up this morning.”

“Isn’t it a bit early for that?” She’d thought for certain she’d be one of the first people awake.

“Apparently not,” Tegan responded with a grin. “You’ve left your hair down?”

“Just letting it dry before I braid it.”

“It looks nice, I like it.”

“Thanks. I give it ten minutes before I get frustrated with it and braid it anyway.”

Tegan laughed. “I’d love to chat, but I better get on with it before the captain comes looking for me. See you later?”

“Yep,” Karigan agreed, though she was looking forward to it a lot less than her tone indicated.

She’d need to eat soon, but it was early still, and she wasn’t hungry yet. Instead, Karigan made her way outside and down to the stables, where she perched on the top rail of the paddock again. Blue Bird and Carrots were grazing in the early morning light, and they had several companions with them now that more Riders had returned. The sight of their varicolored hides made Karigan grin. This was one of her favorite spots on the castle grounds.

There was a bit of a bite to the breeze. Another reminder that fall was here, and that the weather would soon turn cold and harsh. She had packed her cold weather gear just in case, but it made her wonder if it snowed in Eletia. Did the weather follow the same patterns there, or would that be different as well?

To Mara’s point, would there be horses there for her to sit and watch like this?

For a moment, Karigan felt the sting of trepidation. She was leaving everything she knew behind – what if that included more than she’d bargained for? There was no point in worrying about it now. She had agreed to go, and indeed needed to go. She would adjust as necessary.

The wind had done an admirable job on her hair. Karigan gathered it over one shoulder and started to hum a tune her aunts had often sung to her growing up. Her fingers combed through her hair mindlessly in preparation to braid it; she had barely started when her ministrations were interrupted by several curious horses.

Blue Bird nosed her way right into Karigan’s lap. The mare rested the weight of her head on Karigan’s thighs and then heaved a great sigh, blowing bits of grass and horse breath at her. Karigan laughed and scratched the area between her eyes and behind her ears.

“Silly mare,” she teased quietly. “I’m supposed to be staying clean today, thank you.” Blue Bird flicked an ear forward to listen but didn’t move. Karigan wished again that Condor were here. The journey would be more bearable with a friend at her side. “You’ll take care of him, won’t you?”

Carrots and Sunny, not to be left out of the attention giving, had trotted over to join their companion. Blue Bird lifted her head and glared at them but turning her attention on Carrots had left an opening for Sunny. The palomino mare pulled parallel to the fence and nudged Karigan’s pocket with some force, unbalancing her.

“Hey!” Karigan chided. “A little easier, will you? I didn’t bring anything, I’m sorry.”

Carrots whickered in disappointment.

“I think they’ll forgive you.”

All at once the air disappeared from her lungs. She closed her eyes and wished that she were somewhere else, or that she had gone to get breakfast first instead. Of all the times and places, what were the odds of him finding her here?

Karigan glanced over her shoulder. The king was standing just a few steps from the paddock fence with the Weapon Donal behind him.

“Your Majesty.”

There was no one else out here to witness them, but her manners and duty were more muscle memory than thought, so she pushed the equine heads away from her and clambered down from the fence.

Blue Bird, helpful trouble maker that she was, shoved her head into Karigan’s chest and pushed. Karigan let out a surprised _oomph_ and glared at her whilst shoving her away again.

“Shove off you overgrown dog,” Karigan muttered at her.

When she ducked between the fence rails and straightened herself, there was a streak of slobbery grass up the front of her shirt. Annoyed that she’d have to change – and that the king should find her this way – Karigan tried not to scowl as she made to bow.

“Don’t,” Zachary said before she could do more than flex. Then, softer, “Please.”

Freed from the necessity of bowing, Karigan didn’t know what to do. Zachary was in the plain black clothes he wore when he trained with Arms Master Drent; that, at least, explained what he was doing out here.

“You must miss Condor.”     

Karigan glanced at him in surprise. “More than you know.”

She didn’t miss the way Zachary’s eyes flicked down to the spot where her new necklace rested. His expression changed minutely, but it was gone too quickly to decipher.

Then, rather unexpectedly, Zachary gave her the tiniest smile. “I think someone is looking for you.”

“What?” Confused, she glanced over her shoulder to see that Mara had just stepped out of the stables.

“Karigan!”

“Coming!”

When she looked back, Zachary had already turned and started back toward the castle. In all of the interactions they’d shared, Karigan was chalking that one up to the strangest. Confused, and disappointed that she didn’t feel more relieved, Karigan stared at Zachary’s back for another heartbeat and then turned to go join Mara.  


End file.
